Come Back Home
by besemperadreamer
Summary: During the First Magical War he saved her. Maybe in the second one she will save him.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimers:** **I do not claim to own any of the Harry Potter characters or their magical universe created by J.K. Rowling. I'm writing this story purely for fun and not for profit.**

**Reminiscences **

At first, her vision showed her only blurred colors and hazy contours. Slowly, as her eyes focused, she could make out a richly furnished dining room, with luxurious furniture typical for a grand manor house. A sharp pain rushed through her body, and with considerable difficulty, she tried to re-assemble the puzzle pieces containing the recollection of her last lucid moments.

She recalled that she had woken up early that morning, so early that the night's heavy mist still enveloped the house, not yet agreeable to making place for the fresh, light air of the morning. She knew she had walked past the Anti-Apparation wards that surrounded her parents' house, a residence she still shared with them, so that she could Apparate to London, and have her umpteenth job interview in the last months.

After she had been fired from the bookshop where she had worked for some time, "due to staff redundancy, nothing to do with her origins, of course", she immediately started to search for a new job, willing to accept inconvenient work hours and long travels, but, as a matter of fact, nobody wanted to hire a Muggleborn these days, when disappearances and kidnappings of both Muggleborns, and their sympathizers were on a daily order.

These were difficult days - it was rumored that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was after the Potters, and the Dark Mark was, with growing frequency, appearing above the houses of his opponents in a sort of macabre hunt. Many wizards and witches, realizing that this was an open war, thought it wiser to leave the city, or even the country. A large number of them closed their shops, and terminated their businesses, hiding at safe houses of their relatives. Who could blame the few remaining for refusing to employ her in order to protect themselves and their families, refuting a potential threat to their own inviolacy?

The Potters... it was rumored that they were under Dumbledore's protection. It was also rumored that they were hiding under a powerful warding spell, so powerful that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would not be able to find and target them. But apart from the notoriety they had recently gained, Emily remembered James and Lily well, as only two years had passed since she finished school, and they had been in the same year as her. They had not been in the same house, though, as Emily had been a quiet and withdrawn Ravenclaw, compared to the famous, and at times insufferably arrogant Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, or the battlesome Lily, who never hesitated to come to the defense of the weaker. More than once, Lily Evans had tried to involve Emily in study groups she led, or in free-time activities, noticing that she was always alone, but she was rarely successful.

Once, though, Lily succeeded, involving her in a small study-group for Potions, a subject Emily loathed just as much as cooking. Her work bench was always untidy, as she somehow managed to mix up the ingredients upon it even before they were added to the cauldron, and more often than not, her dosages were also inaccurate. So, when Lily discovered Emily's poor attitude toward the subject, she proposed her to join her and her Slytherin friend, Severus Snape, both excellent in Potions, in their study sessions. Emily agreed out of desperate need rather than a desire for company. To be perfectly honest, that Slytherin boy made her feel uncomfortable. She got the impression that he was rather unfriendly, and neither was he famous for his good-looks.

During their meetings, her fears were confirmed. Snape was unpleasant and rude. Most of the time, thankfully, he quietly worked on his potions, ignoring her, and talking only to Lily. But there were also other times, those she dreaded, when he was hissing insults at her, dissatisfied with her incompetency and her complete inability to brew even the simplest of the potions right. With Lily, however, he always talked nicely, never giving her a bad word, never showing her a rude gesture or uttering an unpleasant comment.

It wasn't difficult to see that he had a severe crush on Lily. A light could be seen in the depths of his eyes whenever they were set on the beautiful girl with the fire-red hair.

One day Lily couldn't come to their study session because she had to finish an essay which was due the following day, so it was only the two of them, Emily and Severus, completely alone.

While in the previous meetings Lily's idle chatter had lightened those long hours of slow torture, this time, the uncomfortable silence, interrupted only by the noise of the blades on the chopping board, and by the boiling of the cauldrons, wafted heavily between them. Emily could hardly have passed as a merry chatterbox. She had few friends, in part because she didn't like to be surrounded by many people, in part because she preferred a good book to the noise and music of a party, never having been part of such a busy social live. But the silence in the room was truly oppressive, and having decided that she'd had enough of it, she turned towards the boy next to her.

"So...how's your day been?" Emily asked to break the ice. It wasn't that she particularly cared. She would have preferred to know the reason for using midofuco snout in the third stage, but maybe it was better to start the conversation with something more casual. She never asked questions directly, generally voicing her doubts out loud, and then Lily took care of clarifying them for her.

"It's none of your business," he answered dryly.

Pleasant as always, she thought. For a while, they fell back into the uncomfortable silence that Emily disliked so much.

"What essay does Lily have to complete?" she asked then, hoping to get his attention by talking about the girl she thought he liked.

"History of Magic," he answered with less rudeness, but still no less abruptly.

Sighing, Emily resigned, and turned her attention again to the potion she was brewing. It had turned a strange dark purple color, instead of the expected bright fuchsia, and on top of that it had become quite difficult to stir, as it was of a much thicker consistency than what it should have been.

"Oh, dam-it!" she swore quietly, running her index finger down the list of ingredients, cursing under her breath for not having asked about that damn snout immediately. Glancing at the boy's potion, she found it depressingly correct-looking, bright fuchsia and liquid as it should have been.

"Pathetic." She heard his flat voice mocking her, as he looked at her with a mixture of suppressed pride, and satisfaction at her failure.

She frowned at him, and, with a wave of her wand, vanished the content of her cauldron. With a heavy sigh, she pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. Why was she getting it wrong each time?

"If you had half a brain, and in this phrase the key word is "*if*, you wouldn't take all the ingredients out of their containers at the same time, but you'd retrieve them only for the step when they are needed. Are you sure you are a Ravenclaw? I was under the impression that the main requirement to belonging in that House was a keen mind – something which you are most certainly lacking," he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

Emily's eyes fixed him furiously. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, and gave him a defiant look.

"I am a Ravenclaw," she pronounced each word clearly. If there was something she really couldn't take, it was insinuations regarding her house affiliation.

"I don't' think you are presenting an example of great intelligence, mixing the ingredients already on the chopping board, and adding a whole midofuco snout when the recipe clearly states only a quarter is required," he continued, pointing at the recipe with his index finger.

Yet, Emily had to concede that the accusations he was throwing at her were correct. She was the typical nerd, a little introverted, who did well in all those subjects requiring memorization of information. But she was a disaster in Potions, which to her misfortune consisted mainly of manual labor.

What happened when she lighted the fire under her cauldron had become the joke of the school – explosions, improbable toxic reactions, dense colored fumes… a disaster, similar to what happened when her mother requested her help in the kitchen. She recalled with complete clarity the time when she had almost set the house on fire, and the small scar on her left arm bore testimony to how well she handled pans with hot oil. Because of her deep, almost instinctive dislike for the subject, she not able to concentrate sufficiently on following the instructions, nor was she able to wait for the required boiling time. Adding to that her clumsiness, it explained her continual failure at exams.

"Yeah, I'm hopeless...," she murmured with resignation, but not forgiving Snape for having insulted her in such a rude way, even though there was some truth to his words. She gathered her things together, put them into her bag, and turned to leave. But she couldn't stop herself from throwing a little salt on his open wounds in turn.

"Thank you, oh sublime Potions Master, for your precise, if nasty words of advice. I hope next time your beloved Lily is here..." She gave him a malicious grin, while he frowned, his pale cheeks turning a pinkish shade. "…So that I can escape your scathing sarcasm." And with these last words, she stepped out of the door.

"Hey!" she heard his deep voice shouting behind her.

"What?"

"You won't say anything," he said, but it sounded more like a threat then a statement. His expression was rigid, and the features of his face tense.

"So we are human after all!" she mocked him. Seeing his deadly serious glare, she smiled a little. "Don't worry, your little secret is safe with me. I'm not a gossip, you know. And I'd never cause trouble for anyone, so... well, see you next time. Bye, Potions Prince!"

They saw each again about a dozen times, sometimes without Lily, and continued to brew more and more advanced potions. Emily managed to scrape through her exams by a hair's breadth, but she never grew to like Potions. Sometimes she admired Severus's ability to accurately dose the ingredients, to not follow the recipe, and still get even better results; even his way of stirring showed passion, and an inborn technique. It certainly was a very different story from her own clumsy attempts to correctly follow the simple Potions exercises she had set herself.

Their acquaintance never went beyond those Potion sessions, however. After the exams came the summer, and when they returned for their fifth year, Snape associated himself more and more with a small circle of Pureblood boys. Lily told Emily she didn't like what he was becoming. Emily wasn't there when practically everybody saw Snape's underpants, and when he called Lily, who had come to his help, a Mudblood. But the story eventually reached her ears, after it had made innumerable rounds of the school, and Emily wondered how much of it was true, and how much was only speculation.

She had to think again when she happened to meet Snape on the third floor, in a half-deserted corridor. She always retreated there when she had a free moment, bringing her sketching book, full of drawings and sketches. She loved running a Muggle pencil across the white paper, tracing the surrounding landscape or situations. It was perhaps the only activity that kept her in touch with her Muggle origins, and she regretted that school commitments rarely allowed her to dedicate herself to this past-time, which always left her feeling good and at peace with herself.

Snape, however, was there for other motives. He sat on a window sill, staring out into the void with a defeated look.

"Hi," she said shyly, unable to turn back.

He didn't move a single muscle, nor did he turn his head, or do anything else to acknowledge her presence.

"How are you?"

Her question was stupid, maybe the most stupid one she could have asked. After all, she was a "Mudblood", too. One should have thought that he had insulted her, too, as well as any other Muggle born, simply for the nature of their blood.

She knew that Lily had refused to forgive him, despite the feelings the young Slytherin had for the Gryffindor redhead.

Instead of responding, Snape continued to stare into the empty space, immobile like a statue. Perhaps his heart, as well as his appearance, had turned to stone. Realizing that she couldn't draw with him there, and that Snape had no intention of talking to her, she wisely decided to leave. Giving him one last look of compassionate comprehension, which he could not see, as he stubbornly kept his back turned to her, she retreated. She could not have known about the cold tears that ran down the boy's face, about his broken heart at having lost his green-eyed princess, the one who had brightened the most beautiful moments of his existence, and who had now abandoned him, throwing him into the deepest abyss of darkness.

After that, they didn't talk to each other anymore, but this didn't stop Emily from following him with her eyes, seeing him abandon himself more and more to desperation and remorse, while the extent of Lily's obstinacy became more and more apparent. She didn't forgive him for the whole year, and, as if that was not enough, in their sixth year started to go out with James Potter, who had made Snape's life miserable all those years. Emily was greatly saddened when she heard of their engagement, not because she didn't wish Lily happiness, but because she knew what it meant to another person… Sometimes she saw Severus looking at the pair as they were hugging or kissing, his pain and rage hidden to the world, but visible to the one person who knew. And she noticed him coming ever closer to the supporters of blood pureness, who endorsed the ill-treatment of Muggle-borns, and who supported him whose name must not be pronounced.

When in their seventh year, she saw him wear long sleeves in the summer, she was certain he had chosen the darkest path he could have followed.

During the graduation ceremony, she saw him from afar, surrounded by his friends, in his hands the roll of parchment that attested a recognition of maturity. His eyes, bottomless black pools, were fixed with barely hidden grudge on James Potter, who took his diploma, and triumphantly walked down towards the grounds, hand in hand with Lily.

"You're still in love with her," she thought with bitterness, for that soul was afflicted by love for a girl who had refused him the chance of salvation. What would become of them all now?

All around her, in Hogwarts' grounds where the ceremony was being held, she could see students wearing long sleeves, young men and women who joined a war of false promises, twisted truths, and shedding of innocent blood on behalf of a racist ideal, represented by a black skull encircled by a snake, branded into their skin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Where am I**

Her mind made a considerable effort to concentrate, instead of wandering between those futile memories, utterly useless as far as helping her understand where she was. She had lost all sense of time, and the heavy curtains of Bordeaux velvet, drawn to occlude every ray of sunlight or moonlight or, more likely, an indiscreet gaze, weren't helping her determine if it was day or night.

The darkness in the room was oppressive, and the anxiety, which 'till that moment she had managed to keep under control by thinking about something else, took over. Her breathing became labored, as if someone was pressing on her throat, trying to suffocate her, while her heart started to beat in a crazy gallop, sending a rush of adrenaline through her body, putting all of her senses on alert. Ignoring the pain that reverberated through her sore limbs, she tried to move away from the wall against which her back was resting, in order to go pull back the dark curtains, but she found that her movement were restricted by invisible threads. She realized that she was under a body-binding spell, and, as if that wasn't enough, she no longer had her wand.

Her attention was drawn to some muffled sounds from the other side of the double-winged doors, which she identified as two male voices, even though the distance, the headache, and the fixed obstacle of the heavy solid mahogany door didn't allow her to follow the heated discussion between them. The voices became increasingly distinct, as the steps approached the door, and when it burst open, Emily had the unfortunate opportunity to see whom said voices belonged to: Two tall men, at least four inches taller than her, wearing long, black robes, and silver masks that gleamed in the darkness under their hoods.

Suddenly, all became painfully clear, and the last pieces of the puzzle fell into place. After she had come out of a shop in Diagon Alley, where she had looked for employment as a shop assistant, lost in her thoughts, making her way through a maze of narrow streets, a Stupefying charm had hit her, and the last thing she had seen before she fell to the ground was black garments stained by a splash of silver. She had been caught by Death Eaters!

"Well, well what a pretty little bird we have here," said one of them with an unpleasant lecherous voice, grabbing her chin between his thumb and his forefinger, lifting her face to get a better look at the girl. The girl with deep blue eyes and curls a dark shade of ash blonde, tried to retreat, disgusted, when the man let his tongue slide over her cheek, as if he really wanted to taste his prey, ready to devour her.

"Delectable," he continued, all the while keeping her face in his forceful grip, stopping her from avoiding his touch, and the sickening stench of his breath. Emily shivered, disgusted by the humid trail that the tip of his tongue had left. With a forceful jerk of her chin, she finally broke free from his grip, and stared at him with a mix of repulsion, terror and anger.

"Oh, oh, a rebel," he exclaimed, almost amused that she dared to put up some form of resistance.

"Avery, Mulciber!" she heard a third voice call. "Bring the girl."

She was freed by the counter-spell, and, with a wand pointed at her back, was pushed through the heavy wooden doors into a long, seemingly endless corridor, whose walls were adorned by numerous portraits, depicting the ancestors of the family living in this sumptuous residence. Her mind ran frantically through all the possible options, including a pathetic escape attempt, and a few other plans, neither of which would have allowed her to get out unharmed, or even alive, from her situation.

"I don't want to die."

Those words were resounding in her mind at every single step, each leading her a little closer to her final destination, represented by a half-closed door at the end of the long corridor, from where a sliver of light scarcely illuminated the end of her journey, which she knew to be one-way only. And though the will to live had not abandoned her, she had no illusions, she would enter that room and not come out again.

When she reached the door, the light pressure against her back from the wand of her tormentors, made her enter, opening the door wide, introducing herself and the two Death Eaters into a large ballroom, bare except for a red velvet sofa, on which sat a man – man? – with snake-like features, and big, bloodshot eyes. He was surrounded by a circle of hooded figures, standing in religious silence, waiting for an order or a sign from their Lord.

The faint light of the fireplace was the only source of light in the room, and could only illuminate part of it. From the corner of her eye, Emily caught a creeping movement in a dark corner to her right. She did not dare to turn her head to verify what animal it was, but she didn't have to wait long to see a snake, maybe a royal python, which coiled itself around the foot of the sofa, slithering up until it rested on its Master's lap, letting him caress its scaled head like a pet cat looking for appreciation. With dismay, she noted that the animal's body had left a crimson trail, which bore testimony to what might be in the dark corner. She didn't know what the Death Eaters did to Muggle- borns, because nobody had lived to tell the tale, and that in itself was enough to tell her what to expect.

She prayed with all her heart to be killed straightaway, without too many preambles. Better a rapid and painless death than a long-suffering and painful one. However, given the situation she was in, surrounded by Death Eaters, the latter was decidedly more likely. She was pushed into the middle of the circle with increased vehemence, due to her obvious reluctance to move, and, more due the fear that had assaulted her than for the pressure of the wand against her back, she fell heavily onto her knees in front of the one who was spreading terror and death around the country. An evil smile distorted the deformed features of his face even more, while from his lips came out a disturbing hiss.

"Welcome between us, Miss…?"

The silence which followed his question seemed to amuse him, while she was only capable of staring at him in anger. Too late, she remembered that he was one of the most powerful Legilimens of his time. She felt her head explode, as the forced intrusion of her mind deprived her of all her defences, and violated her most intimate memories.

"….. Miss Welby." He continued in that serpentine voice, wrapping his hands around his wand of yew, drumming it against the back of his hand, lost in his thoughts. He gave her a smug look, before pointing that vehicle of magic at her, and casting the Cruciatus curse.

The girl's body twitched uncontrollably, while waves of fire submerged her senses, and burned every fiber of her being, provoking indescribable pain, while her screams rose high, echoing in the corners of the empty room.

The curse was cast again and again, not only by the Dark Lord, but also by his followers, who had been granted the pleasure of taking part in the torture. The suffering continued for a time that Emily was unable to quantify. She only wanted it to end. Another spell she had never heard before was cast on her body, and deep gashes tore her legs and arms, while a vermilion stain expanded slowly on the white floor.

She began to slip between unconsciousness and wakefulness, while the awareness of being about to die was spreading through her. Torn in this state of mind, she caught some pieces of a conversation between the hissing voice and a deeper one, which sounded familiar to her.

"… the second time you ask me to spare a dirty Mudblood..." she heard it hissing.

"My Lord, it would be a shame to kill such a pleasant young girl, without having enjoyed her first… only dirty Mudbloods are good at satisfying… such desires..."

"My faithful servant, you served me well, giving me the prophecy which nominates the wizard who should," she heard the voice stressing that last word with particular sarcasm, "defeat me, Harry Potter. My followers know how much I respect those who serve me dutifully. You can have her, boy. Have fun with the body of this filthy Mudblood, and take care to dispose of her when you're finished."

She couldn't hear any more because her senses failed her, making her sink into the darkest chasm of the much awaited unconsciousness.

When she reopened her eyes, she found herself lying on a double bed, in a bedroom with plain and pure furnishings, no longer bleeding on the floor of the room of horrors. Her head was hurting like hell, and every fiber of her body was screaming at the slightest movement.

Still dazed, her gaze lingered on the bottle-green curtains, on the simple desk in the corner of the room, and on the dark cherry wood chest of drawers, where she could see the frames of some photographs, only able to catch some movements rather than to distinguish the protagonists, which surely could have given her some clues about where and with whom she was.

Suddenly, a Death Eater made his entry into the bare room, and her breathing stopped when she saw him approach the bed, the anonymous silver mask staring at her, reminding her that it wasn't over yet. Some snippets of that last conversation she had overheard before passing out came to her mind. Was her prospect to be raped and then killed?

The girl's blue eyes widened, filling with tears which overflowed, rolling over her pale cheeks, knowing only too well what awaited her, unable to move away, her body exhausted by the tortures, resigned into her fate.

The Death Eater stood up, and she saw him disappear behind a door near the window, which she hadn't noticed before. She could hear glass clinking before he returned, holding in his hands what he had evidently retrieved, a flask full of an unimaginable liquid of a yellowish color, and a small jar containing what she guessed was a cream, but she preferred not to think about their application. When he filled up a goblet with the potion, and brought it up to her mouth, Emily found her voice again.

"If you want to kill me, aren't there faster methods than using a poison?" she asked with a croaking voice, which didn't really seem to belong to her. It must have been wasted from all her screaming during the torture; her throat actually seemed on fire.

"Don't be silly," he answered, and, with a light pressure against her lips, made the liquid slip down her throat.

When he had finished, he took the little jar that he had collected and made as to lift up her skirt. At the terrified look that Emily gave him, the Death Eater took off his mask, revealing a familiar face framed by long raven hair, and a pair of deep obsidian eyes.

The terrified expression painted across her face muted in to one of poorly concealed stupor.

She saw him open the jar, take some of the content on his fingers, spread it carefully on her knee, and following upwards along the line of the gash she had sustained, underneath the seam of her skirt .

"Why?" she managed to ask him in a whisper, looking for a reason to everything, and nothing in particular.

"Perhaps you prefer to keep bleeding?" he asked her in a slightly sarcastic tone, raising an eyebrow.

As soon as he had finished with her treatments, administered in silence, Severus got up, and turned towards the door.

"Thank you," she murmured before he went away.

"You have no reason to thank me," he answered without turning and left.

Alone again, Emily became fully aware of the events of the last hours. Tears, this time of joy, started to run down her cheeks again, at the realization that she had survived a deadly encounter. In the silence of the room, the only thing that could be heard was the sound which was coming from her chest, very much resembling a musical hymn of life, played by the beat of her heart. A warm smile, bathed in tears, spread over her face, as the girl finally abandoned herself to a restorative sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Awakening**

The eyelids of the girl trembled before slowly opening, as they were weakly caressed by the lukewarm rays of the spring sun, which, leaking through the dark curtains partially lowered in front of the windows, traced a golden trail on the candid sheets. She needed some moments to understand where she was, a thing that often happened in the last period, and while the waking brought back to her mind the events of the last twenty four hours, it occurred to Emily, with extreme pleasure, that she felt definitely reassured: the muscles did not hurt anymore when tensed and the cuts on the arms, and she noticed successively, on her thighs, had healed, only leaving a bruise purplish halo. That cream and that disgusting acid potion had been miraculous.

Fixing at her best the clothes of the day before, which had been magically cleaned up from her own blood, and washing her face with icy water in the contiguous bathroom, she felt ready to face what that day also reserved her. With a certain resolution, consolidated by the fact to be perhaps the only Muggle born to have survived a close encounter with the dark wizard, she opened the door and walked in a short corridor which ended in a tight flight of stairs.

As soon as she had descended some steps, she had wider visual of the room below, a vain little one which she thought to be the stay, with stuffed walls, tore at some points, with floral decorations drawn in gold, by now faded, on a green moss background. Rickety bookcases, mainly full of magical books, even if Emily caught sight of some titles of Muggle literature, covered the walls. An old fireplace with blackened and undoubtedly extinguished pieces of coal in it, interpolated the continuity of shelters loaded with volumes of every kind. In the centre, a dusty carpet with the same old style decorations, a little sofa of ancient invoice and a small coordinated seat on which she could see a dark figure reversed in the front, long black hairs which fell back to cover the face, elbows put on the legs.

The stairs under her weight emitted some sinister creaking, due to the rotten wood, which would have revealed her presence even if she hadn't wanted. At this sound the head of the boy who had saved her life raised, and like some years before Emily was astonished in front of the depth of his gaze, she felt like he was digging in her spirit, and at the memory of that terrible feeling of intrusion that she had felt the day before, looked away as fast as she could.

"I believe that is yours." She heard the deep baritone of his voice say, while with a nod he hinted to what was placed on a low piece of furniture at the feet of the stairs. The eyes of the girl shone with wonder at seeing his cherry wood and unicorn's hair wand intact and a few feet away from her hand. She was sure she had lost it forever. She savoured with delight the sensationof the smooth wood between her fingers, making them slip with attention for all its length, feeling magic flowing and channeling in that magical object that over the years had become part of her being, nearly a fifth appendix of her own body.

"The fact that you are still alive is for sure not to be attributed to your intelligence." resumed his deep voice full of the usual sarcasm that he used to make fun of her at Hogwarts. "Do you have a vague knowledge of what is happening in the magical world? You'd better have gone away from the country, like many others. And what, instead? Looking for a job in Diagon Alley revealing the nature of your blood… and you would have been a Ravenclaw? Tsk,"

"I don't feel ashamed for the blood that slides in my veins and I don't have nothing to hide to people I ask an honest job to." said Emily interrupting his ironic philippc. It wouldn't have been her, nor anybody of her same state to bow to those silent racist rules. And however it wasn't like she was entering in the shops, waving a flag with "Muggle born tries job" written on it, she simply answered with sincerity to the questions that was asked her by her probable employers, even if, she had to admit, before asking about her abilities they always inquired on the nature of her blood and generally the door was shut on face before she had even taken the wand and done some demonstrations of her abilities.

"Surely a wise choice in times like these…" he remarked grinning, certainly not very much happy of having been interrupted.

She withheld from answering that she didn't accepted hints about life from somebody who had let himself being marked like an animal only because she was very well aware that if he hadn't requested her services as a whore now she wouldn't have been alive. She opted for something less offensive.

"And what do you say to me? It is a wise choice, as a DeathEater, to ask to save filthy Mudbloods?" Her tone of voice raised of an eighth at the last word. She vaguely remembered something of the speech between Severus and the Dark Lord, and if she wasn't wrong, He had pointed out to an other woman with her same blood.

Emily saw a series of contrasting emotions crossing his features, a mixture between anger, desperation, anguish and pain, while the streamlined fingers of his hands closed in such tight fists that he rendered his knuckles still more pale than they already were for his light complexion and the jaw hardened, grinding the teeth. Suddenly other fragments of that conversation came to her mind, something regarding a profecy, something regarding someone who could have contrasted The one Who-Not-Must-Being-Named… Potter. "James?" she asked in her mind, but still it sounded strange to her, she was almost certain the last name, but the name… not, it wasn't James. Keeping concentrating she was able to remember those little that she had heard pronouncing from that alarming hissing voice "… by delivering to me the prophecy which designates the wizard who would defeat to me, Harry Potter."

"Have you?…" but her voice failed her. A cold knowledge pushed in her heart, and her mind. She knew of whom Harry Potter was son, and she also knew that Lily was a Mudblood precisely like her. Now those phrases assumed a scaring meaning.

"I couldn't know…" Severus said without warning, still sitting on the wasted sofa, while fixing his gaze in an imprecise point of the pavement, with bitterness. "I couldn't know that it was she," he made a so long pause that she thought he had concluded the speech.

"I, more than anyone else, more than that imbecile of James Potter, love her over any other thing, I have planted a death sentence over her head." he murmured with obvious sorrow in his voice.

"Nobody else but me, the Dark Lord, Dumbledore and now, unfortunately, you knows why we are hunting … hunting Lily and her son," he continued with a firmer voice.

"Dumbledore?" Emily interrupted him..

"Besides not possessing a brain, have you also lost your hearing?" he grinned raising from the sofa and covering with two falcate the entire distance, resting the forearm on the facade of the fireplace.

Emily sighed heavily, trying to hold back her tongue. Arguing with him would not only lead to nowhere, further more she wouldn't have had a way to discover more of the situation.

After having asked, with all the calm she possessed, elucidations on the entire matter, in reluctant way Severus told her how he had addressed, desperate, to Dumbledore, because knowing Lily well he knew that, even if the Dark Lord had saved her after of his demand, she wouldn't have calmly stayed apart while her husband and her son were murdered, and so on that windy hill he had asked aid from the wise wizard in order to make sure that Lily and her family, evidently letting feel how little he cared about the life of the male members, were protected and put in a sure place. She also discovered about the spy role which Severus had taken and about her being one of the few people who knew the content of a prophecy which she wasn't supposed to know anything about.

"I won't be able to go home anymore ."

It was not a question, rather a matter of fact. Emily would have been forced to come to terms with that reality. She still couldn't believe that the morning before she had greeted her mother, still intent to prepare breakfast, and her father, with the opened newspaper in his hands, with a simple gesture of the hand. If she had known that she wouldn't have returned she would have hugged them, would have said how much she loved them. The image of her mother who wished her good luch for the job and of her father who exchanged again the goodbye with a gesture of the hand without raising his head from the newspaper, was repeating in her head like a film, a far image of a daily reality that she would have never lived again.

The corners of her eyes burnt dangerously, while anguish got hold of her heart, but she didn't like to cry in fornt of other people, in that case one, so she tried to resume the control of her breath and to push the tears back. She didn't even dare to talk, not trusting too much her voice, so she sinked in an uncomfortable silence completely different from the little awkward one of some years before. Before indeed, she hadn't been tortured to the extreme, and he didn't have a skull tattooed on the arm.

"What a sharp observation," said Severus, arching an eyebrow.

Emily raised her face looking at him with red eyes, not succeeding well in distinguishing his form because of the tears that by now filled up her eyes. How could he have been so insensitive?

He looked her with sufficiency before continuing to speak. Emily hoped with all her heart that he didn't say anything else of unpleasant, because she would not have succeeded in withholding herself furthermore.

"I can hide you in the old Prince Manor, in Sussex, South of London. There, though, you will have to go on alone."

Here, this was one of the moments in which Severus Snape was able to surprise her. His ways were not never kind, neither polite or cordial, nevertheless going beyond the sarcasm, beyond the thin irony, beyond the poisonous phrases that often leaked from his lips. But then, Emily felt that there was something else, and that phrase was a proof of it. He was offering a roof over her head, now that she didn't have a place to call house anymore, in his way certainly unique and particular to offer aid. In those moments, briefly, dim lights of his spirit appeared, hidden behind irony and sarcasm.

"Dealt with the Sussex, then. Not that I have much choice." she murmured.

Without warning Severus seized the forearm left with the other hand, "Must go," said and a moment later, had left the living room of the house once again ready to go to hell.

Remained alone Emily approached to the fireplace, grazing with the fingers the photographs rested on the facade. Inside of a thick frame in mahogany, the entire family of Severus. A little appealing woman with long black hair, a man with a great aquiline nose and a pale, emaciated child like his parents, who had inherited the colours of one and the prominent feature of the other.

"They don't have a happy expression," Emily found herself thinking again, while the index was stopped on the smaller figure of the familiar trio.

Her gaze looked over the bookcase next to the fireplace, finding photographic albums, dated on the sides. She tried to take one, and still to half air, a loose photo slipped to the floor. Differently from the photos which were in the house, and those on the fireplace, that was a magical photo. A joyful Lily Evans who embraced a twelve years old Severus embarrassed but smiling.

While Emily sat down on the sofa which a few moments before had accommodated the weight of Severus, she asked herself how much in that young man was remained of that smiling child. With a light bitter smile she remained to gaze at those two children who awkwardly embraced themselves happily, attending his return.


	4. Chapter 4

**Prince Manor**

Selsey, a small town in the county of West Sussex, turned out to have a milder climate compared to cold London. When they Apparated in a random location in the countryside, a few minutes away from the city, Emily was surprised to find that the old Prince Manor was nothing more than a neglected shack surrounded by nature. The only clue as to its owners was the inscription "Prince Manor" along the wrought-iron fence, bronze in colour due to the rust that covered every inch of it.

With a wand movement from her companion, who was still pale and tired from his last encounter with the Dark Lord, the bucolic image which had presented itself to their eyes, changed radically. In front of them stood an elegant old manor house in a state of decay and neglect, as evidenced by the climbing plants that clung to the walls of the building, the dullness of its marble, and the weathered frames and shattered panes of the windows.

The gravel path under their feet was littered with dry leaves and debris, deposited over time by the wind, and a few of the majestic cypress trees lining the path were dying. It had obviously once been an opulent residence, but now little remained of its golden days.

"This house has been in the Prince family for generations. I inherited it directly from my grand parents," Severus said in a monotonous, almost bored tone. He certainly didn't seem exalted at having inherited such an elegant home. Emily wondered if he had ever set foot in it, or, given its neglected state, if it had been inhabited at all during the past twenty years. She wondered why it had been passed to him directly, but then she remembered that Severus was a half-blood, and thought that marrying a Muggle was probably reason enough to be disowned.

"The spell which allows you to see this house is one of the most powerful protective spells in existence," he continued. "Inside these walls you are safe. Given your lack of good judgement, let me point out that the use of magic outside of the Manor is not advisable. It would be best if you pretended to be a quiet Muggle, who has come to live in the long-abandoned Prince's shack," he finished, opening the front door.

"Maybe I haven't shown great astuteness, but I'm not stupid," she retorted at his constant ironic attacks. "I am perfectly aware that I can't use my wand in town."

"Yes, and it's of vital importance that you stay hidden. You know the situation. If anyone were to find out that you're still alive, it would be the end of you, me, and her."

Emily realized that his concern was mostly for Lily, rather than for himself or for her. She couldn't help but admire the young man who was putting everything at stake, including his own life, to save the woman he loved. The fact he had been the one to put her in danger only served to intensify his pain, and increase his effort to make good for his mistake. In her heart, she blamed Lily for not having seen reason while she still had the chance several years back.

"Alright, I have to leave. I won't be able to come often because it's rumoured that there's a traitor amongst the Dark Lord's ranks, and I'd rather not arouse suspicion. These are the keys, and... well.. Goodbye."

Before Emily could have thanked him appropriately, or shown her gratitude, Severus was already heading down the path towards the Apparition point.

Finding herself alone inside the Manor, Emily decided it was best to inhabit only part of it, the East Wing, and, rolling up her sleeves, she reached for her wand. After a few hours, she had made the place habitable to the best of her abilities. As an extraordinarily tidy person, bordering one the excessive, she knew a number of good spells for cleaning and tidying. She couldn't do anything about the ancient furniture, and the worn-out wall paper, but managed to get rid of the dusty spider webs that adorned the ceiling. She polished the kitchen, realising with loathing that it would be necessary to cook something edible, and laundered some blankets to put on the four-poster bed in the room upstairs, which she had chosen as her own.

She didn't manage to complete all the cleaning that day, nor the following. After she was finished with the inside of the house, including the enormous library, the lounge adorned by paintings, and a splendid pianoforte, the dining room, and the bathrooms, Emily finally got to the outside and, not being very well versed in Herbology, it took her much longer to clear up the garden, even though the bewitched lawnmower she found hidden in the high grass was of much help.

Then she moved on to the more meticulous tasks, such as removing the rust from the gate, cleaning the pathway, and removing a large part of the climbers, which were occluding the windows. Caught in a frenzy to improve the property's presentation, she realised only later that was she was seeing wasn't what others would see, and after about a fortnight, Prince Manor had regained some of its old splendour.

Emily hadn't just immersed herself in the cleaning because of her tidiness quirk, but mainly to avoid thinking about her life, the life she had been forced to leave behind. When she found herself alone in the kitchen preparing a snack, or in bed before falling asleep, she felt anguish gripping at her heart, and, more than once, was reduced to tears at the thought of her parents, her friends, and her life as it had once been. It's not easy, but crying is of no use – she kept repeating like a mantra in her head, hoping that, sooner or later, she would actually convince herself. It was still too early to enjoy the enforced independence, something she had often longed for in her family.

When the food supplies in the house started to run out, Emily decided to explore the surroundings, and, as a Muggle-born, she had no difficulty adapting to the life of the small town. At the bakery shop, the ladies, especially the older ones, welcomed her warmly, asking her all sorts of questions about Prince Manor and its owners. Emily kept her answers evasive, while trying to stay as close to the truth as possible, saying that she was a friend of the young heir, who had rented it for a few months, but didn't really know for how long it would be her home. To her great relief, she managed to escape the women's gossiping, and was very happy to return to the quiet of Prince Manor.

After a few months, Emily managed to find a job in a shop selling local ceramics, to which she added some hand-painted designs, exploiting the passion she had often put aside, convinced that she had to follow a career in the magical world. Severus had come to visit her only a few times, and every time Emily found him paler and thinner. If she questioned him about his health, he ignored the question or changed the subject with a dismissive gesture of his hand. Come September, the news Severus brought her were not so good. Now it was rumoured that there was not only a spy amongst Dark Lord's followers, but also one on the opposite side.

When Severus returned to Prince Manor on the first of October, Emily had just come back from the shop.

"Hey, I wasn't expecting you..." she said, surprised, as she placed her bag and keys on the sideboard by the door.

Severus didn't reply; he was lying on the sofa with his eyes closed. As she approached him, Emily realized that the young man was so tired that he had fallen asleep in the first comfortable place in the vicinity.

It gave her the opportunity to study his distinctive features at leisure, without being found out, noticing just how much thinner he had become, and how this made his features appear even sharper, and the aquiline nose even more prominent than usual. His skin, pale due to his fair complexion, was far from its normal colour, showing an unhealthy paleness that made the purplish veins stand out on his thin wrists and pulsing temples.

Instinctively, she reached out to brush away a black lock of hair that had fallen into his face, but stopped short of touching him, tracing across his face in an imitation of a caress, afraid of ruining that moment of rest he had allowed himself. She conjured a blanket, and carefully placed it around his tired body. When Emily came downstairs the next morning, she found only an empty sofa and a folded blanket.

**4 ****am, 1****st**** November**

Emily awoke with a start at the sound of broken glass on the floor below. Without a second thought, she grabbed her wand, which she always kept close for safety, on the bedside table, and cautiously descended a few steps to see what had caused that noise, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight that presented itself to her. The ample windows of the lounge were all shattered, as if there had been an explosion. Amongst the pieces of glass all over the floor stood a black cloaked figure, which she immediately recognised as Severus, raging at his left forearm, where the Dark Mark was faded but visible, with one of the shards of glass.

She ran barefoot over the shards, as she had left her slippers behind in the hurry, not even noticing how they cut her skin as she passed. In an instant, she was by his side. His pupils were dilated; he seemed possessed by madness, as he drove the shard of glass into the mark again and again. Copious amounts of blood were dripping from the self-inflicted wound, staining his hand, his clothes, and the floor, turning the pure white marble vermilion. She tried calling his name, but it seemed that Severus wasn't even aware of her presence. So she decided that the best mode of action was to stop his self-flagellation by force. She grabbed his hand, trying to get him to loosen his grip, cutting her fingers in the process, and, after a silent struggle, she succeeded.

"I should have been the one to die, not her.." She heard him murmuring under his breath, then he screamed desperately,"I, NOT HER!" as the remaining windows exploded over their heads, along with the great mirror over the fireplace, and the glassware in the cupboard. Emily just managed to perform a Shield Charm, protecting them from the rain of small sharp fragments.

After that she saw Severus' body collapse lifelessly to the side, his eyes wide and empty.

Emily, with a stroke of her wand, cleared the floor off all that glass, and the various pieces recomposed themselves into windows. She carefully ran her wand over the cut Severus' had made to his forearm, healing it. 'It will take more than a simple spell to heal this wound,' she thought, placing a hand over the mark.

The lump that had formed in her throat resolved into hot tears, for Lily who was no more, for Severus who was in despair, for herself who was forced to say good-bye to her world, for that damned war that was destroying everybody's lives in one way or another.

They had remained in that position for an indeterminable length of time, when Severus suddenly spoke, slowly.

"Her son survived, Lily has... died protecting him," he said, exhausted. "Dumbledore is certain that the Dark Lord will rise again, and that the baby will be in danger... I'll make sure that her... death... will not be in vain."

With these words, he stood up, a fresh resolution evident in the more determined tone of his voice, and in the posture he had assumed.

"I'm wearing a mark that testifies to my guilt. I want an indelible sign to remind me of this promise."

At that moment, Emily realized that the heart of that young man would always be devoted to a princess with brilliant green eyes, lost henceforth.

"I can help you..." she said then, meeting his dark onyx eyes, which were burning with cold determination. With her wand in hand, and the picture of a white lily in mind, she tattooed onto his body that eternal promise of redemption and love, charmed so that it could be seen only when the silent truth was revealed.

* * *

**A\N:** Hi everybody! I'm sorry for the confusion of posting and re-posting but I was so excited that I published all chapters without a revision. My kind friend Herbologist is proofreading and correcting the first translation by Bebbe5 and I can't say how much grateful I am!

Please, leave me a review, even a little one, to let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Through The Years**

"You know what, Ely, I think that handsome young guy is crazy about you. He keeps walking by the shop!"

Ely Bylew, synonymous with Emily Welby, lifted her head a little from the ceramic cup on which she was drawing a floral motif, in the shop where she had found employment years ago. Her employer, the old Mrs. Glossom, had been forced to look for an assistant when old age had robbed her of her steady hand and good eyesight required to decorate the earthenware she created. But even though she was no longer able to draw intricate flowers and other designs, it did not stop her from prying into other people's affairs, especially not Ely's.

Emily on the other hand was a very reserved person, and didn't enjoy all the gossip, and so, just like during her school years, her life in Sussex turned out to be rather solitary. Initially, she had not wanted to get too involved because she didn't know how long she would be staying, and because she still felt down beaten by the loss of her family and her old life. Then later, as she got to know more about the town, which really was little more than a village, and its inhabitants, she had chosen to keep her distance. It wasn't that they were not nice people, in fact, they were too much so. Many offered to walk her home, asked about her family, or inquired about the town where she had lived, questions that made her suffer more and which she couldn't answer with sincerity, not to mention that she couldn't have explained why, once one entered Prince Manor, one no longer found oneself inside a cottage, but inside an imposing wizard mansion.

She preferred a peaceful life, rather reading a book or painting a picture than gossiping with the elderly or having fun with other young people. Where books were concerned, the library of Prince Manor could easily compete with a public library. There she found books on any type of subject, except Muggle ones, from Arithmancy to Ancient Runes, and an entire section dedicated to the Dark Arts, from which she stayed well away.

She had also tried to play the piano in the lounge, but had soon given up as she lacked the skill, and teaching herself to play was out of the question, as she had neither the patience nor the dedication. But she loved to hear Severus play when he stopped by at the Manor.

The bell announcing the arrival of a customer took her attention away from the artwork and her daydream, and by the time the gentleman had decided on a purchase, the afterglow of sunset could already be seen through the windows.

Shortly after taking the rough path leading across the country towards Prince Manor, the ringing of a bicycle bell made her turn around, not surprisingly, to find Oliver Blim, the presumed suitor Mrs. Glossom was trying to set her up with, approaching.

"Hi, Beautiful," he said once he was close, bowing to kiss her hand with pretended chivalry.

"Hi, Oliver," she answered with a forced smile, feeling annoyed at his importunity and the liberty he took with her.

"You know, I think this is a perfect evening for a candle-light dinner..." he continued, ignoring the girl's reticence.

"Well, _I_ think this is a beautiful evening for curling up in front of the fireplace with a comfy blanket," and, noticing that he was completely misunderstanding her answer, she stressed, "alone, with a good book."

"A book? You actually prefer a few ink stains to my company?" he asked, almost scandalized.

"Goodbye Oliver, I really have to go," Emily answered, rolling her eyes.

Apparently that rude dunderhead couldn't appreciate the pleasure of good literature by one of the classic authors. But there were quite a few girls in town who would have given anything to go out with him. He was certainly a good-looking young man, tanned and with a nice body, but he was the sort of person who valued physical appearance above intellect, caring more about a sculpted biceps than a witty mind. He was not the kind of person she liked to spend time with.

The one who had caught her interest turned out to be the last one she would ever have suspected, a man far from being handsome, with long black hair and pitch-dark eyes. At school she had found him unsociable and unpleasant. During their Potions practice he had been hateful and snappish. When he had saved her life, and offered her a roof over her head she had realised that there was much more to him, a multi-faceted character, concealed behind a wall of sarcasm and irony, which had started to intrigue her more than she was willing to admit. When he had revealed to her his role as a spy, and his motifs, she felt a deep admiration. When she had seen him in a sorry state, amongst shards of glass and blood, she had felt compassion and sympathy, and had wished that he wouldn't suffer so desperately.

When Dumbledore offered him the post of Potions Master, his visits became more frequent. Sometimes they were short, of only a few minutes, sometimes they lasted two or three days, usually to obtain potions ingredients and refill his stocks. The gardens around the manor turned out to be full of magical herbs of every type, and the surrounding countryside was rich in mushrooms and hedgerow fruit.

Emily had to listen to his complaints about the incompetence of the dunderheads he was required to teach, and she felt for those poor souls, because she had been in the same situation, but without having such a sarcastic teacher as well. Invariably, whenever she tried to calm his anger or defend his students, he came out with some sarcastic remarks about her own inaptitude in Potions.

When she took to the kitchen, trying to prepare something to eat, Severus really got to his best form, coming up with ever new vicious remarks about her lack of skill, and ever nastier adjectives to describe the taste, smell, and appearance of the meals she cooked.

Through the years, however, she got to see much more about him than that. Severus turned out to be a lover of art and literature, much more than she would have expected of him. She was surprised to find out that had read almost every book in the library, even the more obscure ones, and not only those. He was familiar with many Muggle works as well, amongst them some of the most famous classics, but this didn't astonish her, as she knew he was a Halfblood, and should have inherited something from his Muggle roots. They frequently discussed general topics, often inspired by a book, but more often than not, ended up arguing about the nature of destiny, having completely opposite points of view, and Severus, instead of going into more detailed explanations, defeated her by insisting that her ideas were terribly childish and of a nauseating optimism.

Increasingly, Emily found herself looking forward to his visits with longing, deceiving herself by saying that they were simply a break from the monotony of her solitary life in Sussex. In reality, she was smitten by that man, quick-witted, sarcastic like few other people, as well as highly cultivated and interesting.

When they talked, Emily was taken in by his deep voice, explaining his points using examples and quotes from Greek and Latin literature, be it magical or of Muggle origin. In those moments, she could feel her heart galloping, and it was hard to suppress the ever stronger feelings that took hold of her heart.

Sometimes she was woken up in the middle of the night, after having been asleep for several hours already, by the sound of an absorbing melody played on the piano in the lounge. She had found out that the piano had once belonged to Eileen Prince, Severus' mother, and that it was her who had taught him to play. The music expanded and echoed through the empty rooms of the manor. It was such a sad melody that she always ended up crying when she listened to it, often without even noticing. He could play divinely, as if with his music he wanted to communicate with the angels in Heaven. Well, perhaps not with all of them, but only with one in particular, with flaming red hair, and green eyes.

When Harry Potter arrived at Hogwarts, the picture Severus painted of him was that of the world's worst dunderhead. He told her that he was nothing more and nothing less than his arrogant father. Yet, that same year, he entered via the Floo, limping. The following year, paler than ever, he told her that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. During the third year, he wanted to kill Sirius Black with is own hands, for having betrayed James and Lily, and thwarted his own efforts. In those moments, for the first time, he scared her, because she could tell how strong his desire for revenge was, not to mention the rage he felt when he learned that Black had managed to escape. When he Floo'd in that day, he destroyed the glass sideboard with a punch of his fist, and Emily decided that it was wise to move it elsewhere.

Through every disillusion, every event, she was there for him, always by his side. The day of the Triwizard Tournament, she was still sitting in front of the fireplace, on the sofa, waiting anxiously for his latest news, which she fervently hoped to be good ones, even though Severus had indicated that he wasn't expecting anything good, especially not since the mark had started to become more defined.

Suddenly, in a burst of green flames, Severus body fell at her feet, trembling convulsively.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay, but I was on holiday with my family without internet connection, but even more, without my pc!

Thank you all for taking time to review, it make my day! Thanks in particular to my kind friend **Herbologist**, whose help is now and then always indispensable.

Please, review!

Ciao


	6. Chapter 6

**Always by your side**

That day two years ago, when his body hit the floor, Emily dropped the book she was holding in her hand, and immediately ran towards him. His limbs were shaking with uncontrollable tremors, his eyes were shut, his jaw clenched. Even though it was clear that he was suffering terribly, not a single word of lament or moan escaped his mouth, as he bore the pain with stoicism and stupid pride.

She levitated his body onto the nearby couch, knowing only too well that her slender figure wouldn't have the strength required to physically support his weight.

"Good Heavens, what has happened Severus?" she whispered in alarm.

Severus sharply pulled up the sleeve of his left arm, showing her the Dark Mark where the snake moved in a macabre dance beneath his skin, burning darkly against the pallor of his forearm.

All Emily was capable of doing was covering her mouth with her hand in a quiet expression of terror: The Dark Lord had returned.

"A boy has died," he said between clenched teeth, trying to control the spasms. Seeing the woman's terrified expression, he added, "Not Potter. But to make sure that he was safe, and to guarantee my position, I had to delay answering the call. And I have.. I am.. paying the consequences."

Another wave of pain rushed over him, and he barely suppressed a moan. His breathing became heavy and labored, while spasms were running through his muscles again, and droplets of cold sweat appeared on the skin of his forehead.

Emily ran into the kitchen and filled a bowl with warm water, not paying attention to the water that spilled over onto the floor and over her clothes, before returning to the lounge. She had to go back into the kitchen because in the rush she had forgotten the cloths that she wanted to use. She could have summoned them with her wand, but the fact that she lived like a Muggle most of the time had made her less reliant on magic, and this, she realized, was a bad thing, especially given the times that lay ahead.

She soaked a cloth in the water, and passed it over his forehead, hoping to relieve his suffering even a little bit. It was too bad that there wasn't a spell to cure the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse. Whoever had invented the curse clearly didn't have the slightest intention of making it reversible; in fact, the after-effects it caused had been very much desired to add to the suffering of the victims.

With her other hand, Emily went on to unbutton the high-collared waistcoat which Severus was usually wearing, and proceeded to wet his neck with the cloth, as well as a small part of his chest that was accessible to her. She repeated the procedure many times, until she saw the lines of his face relax and the tense muscles slacken, a sign that the effects were coming to an end.

As she absent-mindedly continued her work, she couldn't know that two dark eyes, now open, were observing the small hands wringing the cloth to eliminate the excess water, and carefully folding it into a rectangular shape. When she was about to turn and pass the fabric over Severus' forehead again, she found herself caught in a frowning gaze, almost bewildered by the attention she was giving him. With a small smile, feeling her stomach clench, Emily moved a wet strand of black hair out of his face, and continued her ministrations with the cloth, while Severus rested his head, closed his eyes, and abandoned himself to that pleasant treatment.

This wouldn't be the last time that Severus would came back to Prince Manor in such a state, nor the last time that Emily rushed to relieve his sufferance with a loving care. Apparently Lord Voldemort wasn't happy with how things were going, and took out his anger as much on his own followers as on eventual Muggle or Muggle born prisoners. Severus told her that usually his followers, including him, were the scapegoats for his frustrations, but Emily had the distinct impression that he said so in order to spare her the pain. With disgust, he had also emphasized the fact that there was one Death Eater woman in particular, who had a sadist pleasure in being tortured, and it wasn't hard to guess whom he was referring to. It was also true that the number of women amongst the Dark Lord's ranks could be counted on the fingers of one hand.

Things became even worse in the summer of the year after, when the Order of the Phoenix lost Sirius Black, and the prophecy was lost. In reality, the reason why Emily felt sorry for the death of Black wasn't due to any previous acquaintance or friendship, in fact, while at school, they had hardly spoken to each other at all. Along with James, she had always considered him decidedly arrogant. But to die after spending a lifetime in Azkaban, with even his friends believing him to be guilty, when he had just found his godson again, and could live a "normal" life, if you could call it that way, had seemed cruel to her.

But then it was Lucius Malfoy who, according to Severus, was having the worst time. He had failed in his mission to retrieve the prophecy, and this had left Lord Voldemort more than furious. It was almost fortunate that he had been caught by the Aurors at the Department of Mysteries and locked away at Azkaban, because Severus was firmly convinced that he wouldn't have survived the Dark Lord's wrath. Furthermore, he had confiscated his sumptuous residence, to be used as a future head quarters. And as if that wasn't enough, his son, Draco, would be paying the consequences of his mistakes.

But Emily's worries and sorrows weren't about Malfoy or Black, no. Her entire being, all her senses, her mind, her heart, and her thoughts were focused on Severus.

She had always been there, by his side, ready to assist him along that difficult path he had chosen to take, suppressing the feelings stirring in her soul, admiring the man he had become over the years, who never shirked from his guilt and his duty, facing whatever was thrown at him with proud stubbornness and his head held high.

Since Dumbledore had managed to wrench that promise from him and Narcissa Malfoy had knocked at Snape's door at Spinner's End, Emily could hardly sleep at night. And when she did sleep, her dreams were agitated, haunted by black hooded figures with silver masks, and by bodies resembling corpses who stared at her with glassy eyes, always from within the same face, with long raven hair and pale skin. Without giving her reasons, she had some batches of Dreamless Sleep potion made.

Emily felt it was a terribly selfish thing to think, but she would have preferred the death of that boy, that Draco, or even Dumbledore, to that of Severus. If she had been forced to choose, she would have chosen him. It wasn't a feeling she was proud of, but she wasn't a saint, and there was no room for altruism. All she wanted was to see Severus happy, or at least alive, and if this meant sacrificing human lives, she didn't care. Nevertheless she felt guilty for such ungenerous thoughts. There had been a time when she thought that everything would sort itself out, that nobody would have to die, but the war was raging, and the death toll was rising exponentially, amongst both wizards and Muggles. She had to wake up to the fact that there was no place for the "childish optimism" that Severus despised so much. By the sounds of it, he had always been conscious of that reality.

However, as long as she wasn't accountable for anything, it was easy to pretend that it was all happening in a distant time and place.

At the beginning of the school year, Severus was given the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and his old Potions professor, Slughorn, returned to teach at Hogwarts.

This left him with more free time, however reduced over the whole summer by the presence of that vicious rat-like man, Wormtail. She knew full well that if it hadn't compromised his position as a spy, Severus would have killed him with his bare hands. His visits became frequent again, almost daily, and for this reason, and because he was still the Dark Lord's potioneer, Severus took residence in the other wing of Prince Manor, stocking up on almost every ingredient, procured by Emily from the garden or the country, and producing Potions of every sort.

Emily kept herself available to offer him any kind of assistance, but when she stirred seven times in a clockwise direction and used a whole midufuco snout, Severus thought that it was counterproductive to let her work alone, and instead assigned her the task of labeling the Potions ingredients, and the Potions themselves, and cataloguing them according to their usage and function.

Severus came to watch her closely when she labeled the antidote against the poison of the big snake that the Dark Lord kept with him. It had taken five days to brew and, according to Severus, to obtain any more poison from which to make the antidote would have been rather difficult, if not outright dangerous, so the greatest care was required.

She put the bottle between the Dreamless Sleep potion, which was the last one in the category of the potions to be used at night, and the Blood-Replenishing one, which seemed to be related to the antidote.

Every time their fingers brushed when passing a bottle, Emily averted her gaze, not daring to look up and feel exposed in front of those inquiring eyes, while her stomach seemed to turn somersaults. The more time they spent together, the more Emily desired to always have him by her side, talking about his "Dunderhead" students, feeling the sting of his irony, or even just sitting quietly in the lounge, each of them reading a good book.

But dreams don't always coincide with reality. A burning Dark Mark, a cursory movement towards grabbing his forearm, and the apparent peacefulness would fall victim to the harsh reality.


	7. Chapter 7

**Prisons  
**

As he arrived at Malfoy Manor, Severus was greeted by a buzz of voices, which echoed low in the empty corridors. Proceeding towards the great ballroom, which the Dark Lord had chosen as their main meeting place, he traversed a maze of corridors, preparing himself for the gathering, closing his mind, and burying all those memories that must not be disclosed in the depth of his consciousness. From the outside, no change was visible, except for a slight hardening of his expression, and a gaze that become grimmer and darker. Yet, nobody would have given it any notice, since Severus always wore a frown.

Once inside the hall, he moved towards the throne on which Lord Voldemort was sitting with fast and secure paces, kneeled down, and kissed his robes, disgusted by the gesture on the inside, but credible nonetheless. As a spy, he had to be extremely careful, and show a greater degree of respect and submission than the others, always prepared to have his loyalty questioned. Over the years, he had developed the ability to lie believably, hiding his true feelings and loyalties behind a cold wall, almost constantly practicing Occlumancy when he found himself surrounded by Death Eaters and especially when facing his Master.

"Severus, how is the task I've assigned to Draco proceding?" he hissed, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"My Lord," he answered in a cold and calm, decidedly impersonal voice, "Unfortunately the boy refuses my assistance, and to be frank, I don't know what plan he has in his mind. Fact is that the Headmaster is still alive."

A pleased and amused smile played around Lord Voldemort's lips, and seeing that gesture, the Death Eaters gathered around the throne in front of which Severus was knelling broke out into cruel laughter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an ashen Narcissa, her face sunken, on the point of fainting. Severus knew very well that the Dark Lord didn't believe in the slightest that Draco would be able to succeed in his task. He just wanted to make Lucius pay for his failure, and what better punishment than seeing his own son attempt to kill one of the most powerful wizards in existence, and die trying?

A malicious grin appeared on Severus' face, too, as he joined in the general hilarity his statement had roused. But it was a gesture that didn't reach his eyes, or his heart.

"You may go," said the Dark Lord in his resounding voice.

He seemed in high spirits, and that was never a good sign. When he saw him this exalted, it usually meant that there were innocent victims to torture: Muggles or Muggle-borns, taken prisoners solely for the pleasure of causing them pain, and rejoicing in their pleas and laments.

When he had put several meters between himself and the ballroom, he could already hear the cries and moans of some people, contrasting sharply with the amused laughter coming from the other side.

He was about to return to Hogwarts, but changed his mind half way down the corridor. He turned towards the right wing of the manor, heading towards the dungeons. There had to be more Muggles locked up in there. He might be able to do something, even though he didn't feel all that sure about it. Keeping his cover was of fundamental importance, and he would never have risked the work of the last twenty years of his life, compromising his mission, if he weren't absolutely sure that he would be able to free some of the prisoners without being discovered.

When he saw Fenrir Greyback standing guard at the entrance of the dungeons, he realized that it would be impossible to get anybody out of there alive.

"Come to take a look at the fresh meat, huh, Snape?" the werewolf growled.

There were two amongst the followers of Lord Voldemort for which Severus felt a particular dislike: One of them was Bellatrix Black, as much for her foolish devotion towards the Dark Lord, which the years spent in Azkaban only seemed to have augmented, as for the sadistic pleasure she took in torturing and being tortured. The second one was Fenrir Greyback. His look had changed over the course of time, assuming constantly his animalistic features, and the desire for meat and blood no longer only manifested itself during the full moon. He liked to taste the metallic flavor of that vital liquid flowing through the veins of his prey, and sinking his teeth, or rather his fangs, into the soft flesh, or so he had heard him say only a few days before, and it had left him thoroughly disturbed and disgusted.

"Open the cell Greyback, I have no time to waste," he replied dryly. The werewolf let out a low bark, or perhaps a snort, and moved aside, allowing the Death Eater to enter, and closing the door behind him.

The place was dark due to the absence of windows and the scarce illumination of a couple of torches fixed to the musty walls. To both sides of a narrow corridor one could see a line of bars which belonged to a row of small cells, all empty except one.

Inside the one at the end of the row, there was a scared woman sitting on the floor, hand in hand with a little girl of about four years. She was staring obstinately at a fixed spot on the dirty floor, perhaps hoping to go unnoticed or simply under shock. The Death Eaters certainly didn't show kindness during their raids.

Once she saw him, she pulled the girl closer, as if she could actually protect her. Precisely at that moment, Mulciber entered via the door behind him.

"Severus, what are you doing down here?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

"Am I not entitled to be down here as well, Marcus? Let me remind you that I stay at Hogwarts only because the Dark Lord wishes me to do so, but certainly not for my own pleasure," he replied, his voice firm and confident. By now he had become so used to responding in that way that the words came out almost automatically. Over the years, his role as a spy had come to fit him like a glove.

Grinning, Marcus passed him and stood in front of the cell were the mother and her little daughter were locked up, staring at the woman with obvious desire. The woman with her girl retreated into the farthest corner of the cell, like animals in a cage, trapped behind bars.

"It will be fun," he said to Severus, and then opened the cell with a bunch of keys he kept on his belt, menacingly advancing towards the two prisoners. Severus stayed at his heels. The woman, maybe encouraged by the fact that Severus hadn't appraised her in any way, or maybe just because he seemed the more reassuring of the two, grabbed the hem of his long robes and, moaning, started to beg.

"Please, kill me, but let go of my daughter, she's got nothing to do with this, please…"

"How dare you, filthy creature, soil our robes?" Mulciber screamed at her, and pushed the woman away from them with a kick to her stomach. Without using his wand, he started to abuse her with his bare hands, amongst and insults and invectives about the nature of her blood. Meanwhile the girl had curled up in the opposite corner, tears in her eyes, which she was covering with her two little hands, but she could do nothing to stop hearing the cries of her mother.

Taking advantage of the fact that Marcus couldn't see him, busy as he was beating up the woman, Severus swiftly let some drops of Draught of Living Death (which he always carried with him along with some other potions that might prove useful) fall into the bowl of water on the ground. Casting a non-verbal Imperius Curse on the girl, he made her take a few sips, enough to simulate death for a few days.

Just as he lifted the curse, and the girl moved away from the bowl, Fenrir Greyback opened the door and called Marcus Mulciber, whom the Dark Lord required elsewhere.

With one last kick at the bloody, defenseless form of the woman, Mulciber left the cell, and Severus followed behind. At the end of the corridor, Severus took a turn that would take him back to Hogwarts, while Mulciber headed the opposite way, towards the ballroom.

-.

Severus was convinced that the woman would be killed within the next day at the latest, and hoped that the Dark Lord would call him straight away; otherwise his plan would fall apart. For the first time he was happy to feel the skin burning on his forearm. Without hesitation, he left the confines of Hogwarts to Apparate to Malfoy Manor.

After he had kissed the robes of his Lord, a necessary ritual every time he faced him, the Dark Lord commissioned him the production of a restoring potion for Nagini, who was suffering from the life in captivity. It was a real stroke of luck. Otherwise, he would have had to visit his master out of his own accord, bringing him some minimal, useless information about the Order. But, as it seemed, this wouldn't be necessary.

Once dismissed, he headed towards the dungeons, where, to his surprise, he didn't find anyone standing guard, and the door was open. As he got there however, he realized that Fenrir Greyback was right inside, growling and fletching his teeth at Marcus Mucliber and Carrow. They were right in front of the cell where the body of the deceased girl lay, in the arms of her mother, whose face was covered in dried blood from the day before.

"What's going on here?" he asked, giving his voice the sound of authority, advancing until he stood in front of the group.

"The girl is already dead," barked Greyback. "Someone wanted to spoil all the fun." He continued sending threatening glares towards the two Death Eaters by his side, growling under his breath.

"It wasn't us who killed that filthy child." Carrow squirmed, feeling reassured by Snape's presence, but hiding behind Mulciber. Greyback's sharp fangs didn't allow him to be completely at ease.

"Calm down, Greyback, I don't think somebody here is lying. Instead, I believe that the girl died of a natural cause, some viral disease for instance…"

"Viral? Do you mean contagious?" squirmed Carrow, covering his nose with his hands, trying to breathe less, as if the air could infect him.

"In general viral diseases are highly contagious, yes," Snape replied calmly, while Carrow, still with his hand pressed on his mouth, left the dungeon with swift steps.

"And I would also advise you against eating her body, it could be infectious…" he added, and Greyback, with a low, rather annoyed growl, headed towards the exit.

"What shall we do with the corpse? Shall we burn it?" Mulciber asked then.

At those words, the woman pressed the girl's body tighter against herself.

"I think it's better not to touch it. Burning would spread the toxins through the air, and I doubt the Dark Lord would like a deadly epidemic amongst his followers…" he replied, using a line of reasoning which, from a scientific point of view, didn't really make much sense. But he was perfectly aware that Marcus didn't have the slightest idea what he was talking about, stupid and illiterate as he was.

"I'll take care of the corpse" he said resolutely, and Marcus stood aside to let him pass. He kneeled in front of the woman who was desperately clutching the lifeless body of her daughter, holding her tightly. As soon as he was close enough and sure not to be overheard, he whispered to her, "She's alive."

Two simple words made tears pour uncontrollably from the woman's eyes, silently thanking the man who was, for some reason and in some way she didn't know, saving her child. The only thing that mattered was that she was alive. Like any mother, she didn't care about herself. She slowly released her grip, and the girl levitated to Snape's side, who left with her and closed the door behind his back. Those tears were assumed to be shed out of pain. No one could have imagined that they were tears of joy.

When they came to take her, and brought her in front of a man with a snake-like face, she let them torture her without any resistance. In her heart she knew that her daughter was safe, and when a flash of green light hit her, on her lips there remained the shadow of a smile, as her last thoughts were with her Cecile, who was somewhere, alive.


	8. Chapter 8

**Cecile**

When Emily heard a sound of steps in the hall, she hurried immediately, leaving aside the pathetic dinner she had just posed on the table. In the hall she found Severus who was carrying a little girl in his arms, who, she realized with consternation, seemed dead.

"I made her drink the Draught of Living Death," He explained, laying the little body down on the couch near the fireplace, where Emily often had cured him after some less than pleasant encounters with the Dark Lord.

The long silky hair of the girl softly fell on the pillow, framing an oval ashen-pale face. Altogether with the almost absent breathing and the coldness of the skin, it testified the presumed absence of the vital breath of the living ones.

The lace little dress, of an original ivory color, was tore in many points and darkened by the dirt of the prison where she had been held. The arms, and the wrists in particular, seemed so thin and delicate that they could be easily broken by a simple touch of a human hand.

Emily contemplated the little creature which reminded her of a story she had recently read about the usage of that particular potion. She remembered well the effects and the applications because, since Severus had given her the task of cataloguing the potions he brews, she had decided to put aside the hatred she felt for that particular branch of magic she wasn't very good at. It was a mnemonic issue, more than a practical one, anyway. If somebody had asked her to produce a potion of any kind, she knew very well she wouldn't have been capable of, even though she could list all the principal ingredients, the usage and the effects of all the potions Severus held in the Prince Manor West Wing.

The chapter about the Draught of Living Death, had remained particular imprinted on her mind because it reported a famous historical note also present in the Muggle literature. The non-magical version had been transformed in a romantic fairytale of a sleeping princess awakened by the kiss of her true love. Actually, the true story was considered by many magical historians the outbreak factor of the rearrangement of the Medieval Europe and the beginning of the witches' hunt. When the Secrecy Charter between wizards and Muggles wasn't existing yet, it was public the dispute about the marriage with Prince Philip, heir of the Middlands , between two princesses, the Muggle Aurora, whose family possessed many lands of the Eastern Europe, and the Witch Matilde, whose properties extended to the South, comprehending even Sicily. Resorting to the mentioned potion, the witch had managed to make Aurora fall in a deathly sleep. She was woken up by the Court Wizard with an antidote only years later. Matilde's use of magic was perceived like an attempted murder and, as the war broke out, the official split between wizards and Muggles was set.

"Her parents?" asked Emily, her voice transporting the last note of faint hope she had.

The following lingering silence screamed more than an actual answer would have. Only the sound of drops hitting the glass surface of the windows, along with the howl of the wind, could be heard inside the Manor. Severus walked slowly to one of the tall windows of the hall, his back facing her. He stood there motionless, contemplating the dark landscape outside for a long time. It was impossible understand what thoughts were hiding behind his black eyes and his hardened expression.

Emily, who was sitting on the couch near the child's body, kept looking at his stiffen back, his black robe enveloping his figure, his long dark silky hair fallen on his shoulders. Outside the storm was infuriating more and more harshly, it was like a concrete manifestation of what was happening in her soul: a twirl of extreme emotions and feelings overcame her, like an epiphany.

In that precise moment it seemed that everything was on the edge of the end, that maybe there wouldn't have been a tomorrow, not when on the couch was lying the lifeless body of a child who would never have seen her parents again, who would never have felt the joy of living in a family. Not when the presence of death was so tangible. The last thread of hope had been taken away by the scream of his quiet answer. So Emily dared, because destiny was upon them, because the promise made to the headmaster became more concrete each passing day and because the desire to have him by her side had become almost a physical sufferance.

With her heart pounding in her chest, she embraced him from behind, holding him tightly almost like she wanted to fuse his body with her own. Under her thin hands she could feel his ribs expanding with every breath, his heart pounding hard in his chest, his virile and intoxicating scent which filled her nostrils, dazing her. They've never been so close until now, and when she felt him so stiff in her arms, Emily was sure she had crossed a dangerous border.

Slowly Severus turned in her embrace and their eyes locked for a moment that seemed eternal. Her blue, teary eyes held love, admiration, comprehension. His dark and deep ones surprise, disbelief, reticence.

Her hand reached out to brush delicately his cheeks while her lips touched his, in a chaste and light, almost scared kiss. Severus had his eyes closed, his fists clenched, like he was fighting an inner battle against himself but he let Emily's mouth pressing more against his. Then, he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away, murmuring bitterly "I can't" and, like it had been only a dream, Emily found herself alone in the center of the hall, her heart beating strongly in her chest, her stomach upside down, and still in the air an ephemeral trace of his scent.

More than three days were needed to completely wake the girl with the antidote fetched from Severus' escorts in the West Wings. She wavered between short hours of wakefulness to long sleeping hours. It wasn't a fast process because the metabolism had to slowly start working in the correct way again, the contribution of oxygen had to gradually raise and the heart had to begin beating regularly in order to overcome the state of forced quiescence imposed on her body.

The antidote had to be administered at regular intervals to avoid a too abrupt recovery which would have inevitably transformed the apparent death in a real one. To her great relief at the forth day the girl reopened her eyes and kept them opened for more than five hours, and overcoming that temporal limit her potion book designated her as out of danger.

Emily made an effort to cook something tasty, in order to stimulate her hunger, and cure the paleness and thinness of her fragile body. She cooked some sweet crepes, hoping to tempt her. She had to throw the first two in the garbage, though. She didn't expect the girl will eat all of them, and wasn't surprised when she took only a few bits of the first one.

Once she ate, from the couch the child began to look around, her big black eyes wide opened, in exploration of every single detail of the hall. Every once in a while her gaze fell on Emily, with a disarming naivety.

Emily tried to ask her some questions, starting from her name, but she received only a prolonged silence and two big black eyes staring at her in response. She didn't know if the child could understand her, if she was mute, or if the words failed on her because of the shock. She decided not to force her answers, and to gave her her time. She often wondered what the best line of action would be, to bring her to a specialized doctor or not. She didn't know if it was safe, the girl could be a witch, so she decided to take care of the child herself.

She had never had a special motherly instinct, but every time the girl ran towards her to point something new she had found, or when she saw her enjoying her meal, or when she sat composed, ready to hear the fairytale Emily told her every night, she felt her heart filling with tenderness. She wished form the bottom of her heart to make that little creature , who was ripped away from her true family, happy.

While she was in the kitchen, between bowls and pots, trying hard to cook something tasty and nutritious, she heard the noise of soft excited steps. From the door a little figure with long black hair entered, running towards her, bringing along the drawing album she held upstairs.

The girl threw the album opened on the floor, started drawing something and then, once she had finished, she got up fast, pulling the border of her dress and brought her to the album. A childish writing, with some letters written upside down, recited "Cecile". At the curious and quite confused gaze of Emily, the girl pointed alternatively at herself and at the word she struggled to write.

"Ah, so you're Cecile. What a beautiful name…" said Emily, widely smiling and caressing her head. The girl smiled back and, like all the children, she leapt out of the kitchen, running towards the stairs with the purpose of finding pencils and felt tip pens. Emily found out that Cecile loved to draw the most various subjects, but allowed her to see only those she showed her – a little children's rule – Emily thought.

Unable to leave Cecile at home, she decided to bring her along to the shop, to show her new places too. When she told Mrs. Glossom the child was her cousins's daughter, dead in a tragic accident, now under her care, she wasn't surprise to see all the villagers coming to offer their help. "Why can't they mind their own damn business?" she muttered when she managed to dissuade the baker from bringing hot wafers to Prince Manor in the early morning.

When all the chaos of the morning faded, Emily managed to paint some white clay cups. The little girl, who had been cuddled and petted by the older ladies the entire morning, was now sitting near her. She was drawing on the album with felt tip pens and water colors Mrs. Glossom had given her, staining gleefully her dress and her arms. Emily was glad that the owner of the draper's shop at the end of the road had brought her a bag full of child's sized dresses and clothes. She had insisted on paying, but they had been thrown in her arms without seeing reasons. They were kind but, as usual, she thought a little bit suffocating.

The bell of the shop rang, and Emily had to retain herself from rolling her eyes in exasperation, when she saw Oliver Glim in front of her and heard Mrs. Glossom coughing slightly, winking at her direction.

"My poor, sweet, Ely! I've just knew the terrible tragedy." He exclaimed pompously, and took her hand in his. Emily had to sigh internally for good manners. "If there's something I can do, anything, don't hesitate to ask. Surely it will be hard to raise a child all alone, the presence of a fatherly figure is always needed..." he said reaching out towards her.

"Oliver is absolutely right, Ely my dear" she heard Mrs. Glossom screaming from the back of the shop. What a meddler, Emily thought, almost amused by the tragicomic situation she had found herself in.

Putting maybe a little bit more strength than necessary, she managed to get free from his grasp. The she thanked him for his caring, but made crystal clear that she could manage the situation without a man by her side. When he was gone she had to put up with the old lady's scolding about her not being young anymore, about the little time she had to find a man before remaining a poor, lonely spinster nobody would ever wanted.

How could she explain that her heart belonged to a man who had voted his life to sacrifice and love for a dead woman? Emily couldn't forbid her heart from skipping a beat when he was near, or her stomach from churning when they touched ever so slightly. She couldn't forbid herself not to think about the faint kiss they shared some days before. She had felt how much he wasn't indifferent to her, by the way he had allowed her to hug and kiss him, and by the effort he had made to push her away.

And when he had gone away it wasn't because he didn't want to stay, but because he couldn't. He couldn't allow himself to go away from the path he had chose twenty years before, in the name of the love he felt for Lily Evans. But Emily wouldn't have wanted him to forget her. Asking him not to love Lily would have been like asking him to deny a part of himself. The human being hasn't been created to feel love only towards a single person. She wanted to stay with him, she desperately wanted it, and was ready to wait for him to be ready to open his heart to her, if destiny would have ever given them the opportunity.

In the meantime Cecile kept on drawing all over her white paper sheets, filling them with colorful and outlined child-like images.

In the first portrayed Cecile herself, hand in hand with Emily, and above their heads a winged woman who smiled at her from heaven, happy that she was alive.

In the second one, there were newborn birds inside a nest. The very same nest filled with still un-cracked eggs, on a high cypress at the borders of Prince Manor.

In the last one, there was a lightening-struck high tower hovered by an outlined skull, a snake protruding from its mouth.

* * *

**A/N**: Hi everyone, I'm so sorry it had taken so long to update! This chapter is now on only thanks to great **WhiteGray**, who helped me by betareading. She is also a very capable author, go check it out her fanfiction here on this site, it's a very promising SS/OC story called** Someone Else** ;-)


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N**: Hi! Thank you all for your reviews. I'm glad you're enjoying my little story, and I'm happy you let me know it!

Thanks, most of all, to WhiteGray who betareaded this chapter too! She is always great!

And now, read and enjoy!

* * *

**The Prince's Tale**

"I always manage to be responsible for deaths of people I care for, it seems…"

Emily jolted upon hearing his voice in the darkness of Prince Manor's huge hall. She had gone down into the kitchen to have a glass of water after having been awakened by a terrible nightmare, where she was falling into a black, never-ending emptiness. She hadn't even noticed his figure sitting motionless on the couch. She couldn't see his face, but the bitter note of his words made her realize how much pain he was in.

She reached out for him immediately, seeing his familiar features disfigured by a deep half-healed cut which run obliquely from his right eyebrow till the opposite cheek. It didn't seem to be caused by a spell, more likely by the claws of some big beast.

"We could do something for that wound…" she said, being practical. She put down the glass and headed towards the sideboard near the fireplace, where she conveniently kept all the ointments, bandages and potions. The Essence of Dittany was in the second drawer, on the right side.

"What for?" he grunted bitterly. "Another scar, what could it ever change?"

Emily didn't answer; instead she lit the fire and brought a chair near the couch to sit in front of him. Then she carefully moistened her fingers with the Essence and got ready to put it on the cut. Severus's hand moved rapid to grasp her wrist in a firm and not exactly delicate grip, blocking her hand even before it touched his skin.

"I'm a murderer Emily. Don't you see my damned soul? You must stay away from me," he said stressing carefully every word, almost like he was giving her a warning.

"I can't" she answered with a firm resolve in her voice. "Now let me just take care of it." She freed herself from his grip and put the brown ointment on the cut, feeling his angry stare on her and his hot skin under the tips of her fingers.

"I think..." she said while applying the Dittany a second time, "that it requires a lot of nerve to do what's necessary. Besides, how can you call yourself a murderer when the Headmaster himself had asked you to end his life?"

"It doesn't change what I did." Severus angrily cut her speech.

"Maybe it doesn't change it, but you can't deny there are reasons behind it. They are more valuable than you think." She stated, screwing the lid back on the jar full of Dittany.

"I know that you didn't want to do it, that it has been… hard for you." She would have liked to find the right words, but it seemed that whatever she said just made him feel worse.

"Hard?" he hissed dangerously. "Hard? You don't have the faintest idea of how it had been." His voice was lowering more and more while rage, anguish, guilt and pain gripped his insides.

"I raised the wand against the only man who has given me a purpose to live for," he murmured. "I've killed the only one who had offered me a possibility of redemption. And you can still see something good within me?" His chin turned rapidly to the fireplace, showing Emily the back of his head.

Understanding very well his need to stay alone for the time being, Emily stood up and headed towards her bedroom. When she was halfway on the stairs, she turned one last time.

"That child and I are alive is only because of you and your courage. Never forget it," then she went back into her bedroom, but she couldn't fall asleep for the whole night.

With the beginning of a new school year at Hogwarts, Severus was appointed Headmaster by the Dark Lord. Between secretly helping Potter with Dumbledore's mission, the details of which he still didn't know, and defending at his best the students from the Carrow twins without blowing up his cover, he didn't come back to Prince Manor for months.

Emily knew very well she couldn't contact him, but it didn't forbid her from worrying likewise. Sometimes she hated living in a village inhabitated only by Muggles. She couldn't even get the Daily Prophet delivered to Prince Manor, so she was completely unaware of what was happening in the magical world. If she wanted to know more about Severus, only Hogwarts could give her answers. Emily thought about the danger of directly entering the school, where she would have high probabilities of meeting Death Eaters, so she decided it was wiser to go to Hogsmeade: she remembered her teachers often ventured there to have a drink at the Three Broomsticks. There, she will have to be careful not be found out while she were to eavesdrop their conversations.

By using the Polyjuice Potion with an old shoemaker's hair she had paid a visit the day before, she apparated into Hogsmeade. The fear of being found out was so strong that she picked up the first newspaper she saw on the ground, of at least ten days before and missing some pages, and disappartated near Prince Manor boundaries. She had to wait an hour before the effect of the potion vanished and she could go pick up Cecile from Mrs Glossom's house.

The newspaper actually told her almost nothing, and so she realized that her trip had been foolishly futile.

Emily plunged herself in the study of various Dark Arts books, mostly curses aimed at fighting and protecting oneself. She didn't know if she will ever use any of them, but she wanted to be prepared for the worst.  
She also studied some first aid spells, something more about the healing potions and everything that seemed useful. She even found out about Severus's mania for labeling his books with a nickname born from a pun with his mother name, the Half-Blood Prince.

During those months Cecile enjoyed drawing a boy wearing round glasses and his adventures. She portrayed him with a big snake, with a white fawn, and often next to a tent. Emily was definitely worried, but not about her drawings. She knew how fervid the imagination of children could be. The problem was that the child hadn't talked yet, did not utter, a word, nor a single letter. Moreover, as she proved to be a Muggle, unable to show incontrollable events of wandless magic, she decided to take her to a doctor as soon as possible.

After dinner the girl sat composed on the couch ready to listen, as usual, a fairy tale before going to sleep. While Emily was taking her seat on the near sofa the fireplace burst in green flames and Severus came out, brushing ashes from his clothes.

"Severus!" she cried in surprise, relief and happiness. She hurried and took his cloak, while he made himself comfortable on the large armchair he favoured. When Emily came back, Severus briefly told her how things were going in the magical world: how Hogwarts was practically at the mercy of the Carrows, about the Resistance group he let act, turning a deaf ear, about the trick he used to give the Godic Girffindor's sword to Potter, and how he was sure it was only a matter of time the showdown would come. The moment to let Potter know his last mission for Dumbledore's plan for the Greater Good was approaching quickly. Albus had revealed him the boy had to die, in order to bring the Dark Lord down, but he was also sure enough he would be the Boy Who Lived Again. At least, it was what the Headmaster believed, and Severus trusted him more than anything.  
Cecile showed her impatience by sulking and swinging her legs in attempt to draw Emily's attention once again. At the man's questioning look, Emily shrugged her shoulders.

"I was going to tell her a fairytale before you came," she simply answered, smiling.

"Merlin forbid the future of the magical world from being more important than a goodnight fairytale…" he replied ironically, reclining his head on the back of the armchair. He intertwined his fingers in his lap and crossed his legs showing an ill-concealed false interest.

"Please, go ahead," he mockingly invited her with a wave of his hand.

Emily took the usual fairytales book and opened it where the story began. Then she took a deep breath and closed the tome.

"Today, Cecile, I will tell you a story that is not found in this book. It is the story of a Half-Prince and his bravery."

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Severus frowning more and becoming really interested in what she was going to tell.

"Once upon a time there was a long raven haired Half-Prince with obsidian black eyes, who was in love with a splendid princess. You should have seen her Cecile, she was really beautiful, with her gorgeous emerald-like green eyes and her stunning flaming red hair. However, the beautiful princess didn't love him back… In addition, the sad Half-Prince did not have an easy life, because he had only half of royal blood and wanted to prove everyone his value in spite of it. That is why he approached a group of noble people, headed by the Big Bad Sorcerer that wanted to rule the kingdom simply because they thought they were best of all. When the Half-Prince heard a prophecy which foretold the arrival of a child who would have bested the Big Bad Sorcerer, the Half-Prince ran to tell it to him. He couldn't have known that the child was the son of his beautiful princess who he had never ceased to love."

Cecile was already sleepy, but pulled lightly Emily's sleeve to spur her to go further. Severus, though, was wearing an emotionless mask.

"The Half-Prince realized he had put his beloved in danger, so he turned unfalteringly to the powerful White Wizard, who would have protected her and her son. In the meantime, he managed bravely to save one of the war prisoners, and gave her a home to stay in, a big house, just like this one."

Emily smiled at the sleeping face of the child and with a levitation spell the body of Cecile lifted off and was laid down on her bed upstairs.

"Do you want to know the end of the story?" she asked him when they remained alone in the hall.

Severus raised a doubtful eyebrow, but kept quiet and Emily took his silence as a tacit consent. She stood up from the couch to walk where he was sitting, regarded meanwhile with a puzzled, yet still dark frown. Then Emily made her way onto his lap, crouching on his chest and resting her head between his shoulder and neck, inhaling his scent. She saw his hands clinging to the arms of the easy chair and felt his whole body stiffening as usual whenever she searched for a physical contact.

"The Half-Prince gave the prisoner a refuge," she continued, breathing on his skin, "At first she accepted because she didn't have any other place to go, but then -" she made a little pause "- then she decided to remain at the Half-Prince's side because she wished to stay with him, because she started to love him." Emily could feel that he was holding his breath while she was talking.

"Maybe the heart of the Half-Prince," she felt the hot breath of Severus lightly tickling her face, "is still bound to the Princess and the promise he made many years ago…"

"Maybe she doesn't want the Half-Prince to deny the love she feels for his Princess. Maybe she would only be happy to love him without asking anything in return."

"I think she would be better to forget him, find someone else and live a long happy life. The Half-Prince won't survive the war."

"His fate is not yet settled," Emily murmured against his skin, tears rolling uncontrollably down her pink cheeks. She clung more on his body, brushing her nose against his neck in denial.

"Emily, this isn't a fairy-tale. I will die if the circumstances require it," he told her with aware bitterness.

He looked down, meeting her overflowing teary eyes, and kept looking at her motionless until she couldn't bear no more. Emily kissed him forcefully with desperation, clenching his shoulders, afraid he might vanish in any moment.

"I know that tomorrow maybe you won't… But please, for tonight, just for tonight, let's live in a fairy-tale," Emily begged him, whispering her plea on his lips, wetting them with the salty flavor of her tears. For a moment she thought he would reject her, but then his arms embraced her tiny trembling frame. One of his hands made her head come nearer, deepening her desperate kiss.

That night, inside the bedroom, the Half-Prince and the Prisoner made love to each other again and again, suspended in a dream that temporary closed off a fate which advanced relentlessly.

In the other room, Cecile was dreaming of a boy weaing glasses who was riding a big dragon, which flew in the sky and landed in a lake.


	10. Chapter 10

**Save My Saviour **

His thin lips brushing on her skin, hungry kisses and languid caresses, his fingers touching her softly…

"Emily, for God's sake, are you listening to me?" Mrs Glossom asked her, waking her up from the pleasant daydream. As usual , the old woman was scolding her. How could she had miss her lifetime chance with Oliver -The-Hunk, now engaged with the pharmacist's daughter? But Emily couldn't care less. Lately, while her old employer was blabbering, she used to linger on that night of passion she had shared with her prince. Since the morning after he had vanished, she had been asking herself if it had all been a dream. It was not, since she could still smell his scent through the sheets, on the pillow, on her own body and she could relive every moment with intense clearness.

"Yes, Magda, I am listening. What can I say? I'm glad Oliver have found someone who will love his muscles and his lack of brain," she answered with an ironical grin.

"You really should hear yourself! You've just let a well built young man slipped under your nose and you have the guts to laugh it up! You will be a all alone spinster," the old lady exclaimed indignantly.

"Better alone than in bad company, right Cecile?" she said ruffling her hair, but not really expecting an answer. She should let her throat and vocal chords checked by a doctor, or take her to some children's psychiatrist. Almost a year had passed and the child hadn't said a single word yet. In the meanwhile the girl was busy in realizing a big drawing: on the brown background were red stains, a long green line and a black mass.

Emily went back to her work, but she couldn't stay focused on the small cups of tea she should adorn with little country roses anyway. Her mind was somewhere else, thinking about the phrase Severus had told her in the hall. "The final battle is near, it's a matter of days."

How many days? Two, three, ten? Twenty? How could she come to know that, if she was utterly cut out from the magical world? How could she help him if she didn't know when to intervene?

It angered her to be left apart. She had faced up the issue that night too.

"You can die for the woman you love, and I can't for the man I love? Don't use two weights and two measures, Severus, it's not fair," she had told him while they were hugging after having made love. As an answer, he had hushed her by kissing her deeply and had suffocated her protests with bites and caresses. Now she thought she should have pushed him away and made him take her seriously. She heaved a long sigh and tried to focus on her work, with poor results.

Once at home Cecile disappeared in her bedroom and she didn't see her for the whole afternoon. At dinner she hastily ate everything and immediately ran in her room again. Emily stayed in the hall late into the night, hoping to see some green flames in the fireplace. She couldn't have know that in a few hours, the final battle would have broke out at Hogwarts, and that Severus would have been personally involved.

* * *

"Take... this... Take... this ..." he tried to say, while the blood poured from the wound on his neck. A fluid silvery substance started to come out from his mouth, his ears, his eyes and went to fill a little flask readily put in the boy's hand.

"Look... at... me..." he whispered and found himself a few inches from those green eyes he had so much loved and that had designated his long path to redemption. The hand let Potter's clothes go and fell lifelessly on the ground, while Severus plunged into unconsciousness.

* * *

Somebody was tugging the sleeve of her dress with force. Emily had fallen asleep in front of the fireplace on the sofa, waiting for Severus to appear between the flames. She half opened her eyes and turned them to the girl who was tugging her clothes and shaking her arm.

"What's up Cecile?" she asked her, all her senses on alarm in an instant. What was she doing up at – she gave a quick glance at the pendulum clock– four in the morning?

Cecile hoisted the picture she had worked on the whole day. A dark mass was lying on a brown floor, encircled by a big red stain, and high on the right, there was a circle with a big snake inside.

Her look was alternatively going from Cecil to the drawing. She wasn't able to understand. Cecile looked at her with her splendid big eyes, and for the first time Emily heard a ringing voice exclaiming, "We have to save the Half-Prince! Hurry!"

It was impossible... Could it be that Cecile really knew that Severus was in danger?

Suddenly a detail she had absentmindedly noticed came to her mind. She hurried upstairs, opening the drawing albums where Cecile held her works. In the first one she picked there was a broken cup with a purple primrose theme. She had drawn it the same day she had made those cups, and the day after one of them shattered on the floor, falling from Mrs Glossom's hands.

She frantically kept on flicking the drawings and the more she carefully watched them, the more she found those unbelievable correspondences. Cecile didn't merely draw facts and people she saw everyday, but also future events. She was a witch, and furthermore, she possessed the rare gift of the omniscient eye. When she took one of the many drawings of the boy wearing glasses, and saw a lightning shaped scar on his forehead, she was certain that Severus was truly in danger.

She returned to Cecile. "Sweetheart, you must tell me where he is. Is this a floor of Hogwarts?" she asked her, pointing at the draw. The child shook her head. Emily felt her heart stabbed. If that drawing was showing the reality, and unfortunately she was even too much sure it did, Severus was dying of blood loss somewhere, and she didn't know where to look for him.

"Hogsmeade," Cecile trilled. "But I don't know where," she said then, a little bit more disconsolate. Emily, on the other hand, kissed her on the forehead with relief, because Hogsmeade was already a smaller field of action.

She ran to the West Wing, mounting the steps two by two, and from all the potions she had carefully catalogued, she took the antidote for the poison of the snake, two flasks of Blood Replenishing potion and some ointment, putting everything in an enchanted bag. She had to hurry.

"Cecile listen, I want you to remain here, at home, and wait for me, ok?" she said to the girl, once she had recovered her mantle too, ready to go out and Apparate to Hogsmeade.

"You will save the Half-Prince?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes, Cecile, yes." With this she ran towards the gates of Prince Manor, and in a moment was in Hogsmeade, wand ready to defend herself. She ran towards The Hog's Head, surpassing on the right a decrepit building, uttermost known as the Shrieking Shack.

* * *

Nagini's bite had lacerated tendons, muscles, veins and arteries of his throat. He could sense the blood keeping on pouring out of his body, but also running dense along the pharynx, making it difficult to breathe. Furthermore the poison was pumped by the weak beats of his heart in his whole body, making every limb and every organ insensitive to his voluntary commands.

Now that he had accomplished his mission and that he had kept the promise he had made to Lily ( then a white enchanted lily revealed itself on his right forearm) he should have died peacefully. Instead he couldn't stop thinking about Emily, about her voice, her caresses, her cures, all those years when she had been his confident and, in the last days, his lover.

He was convinced that there wasn't a place in his heart for anyone else besides Lily, but Emily made him change his mind. From year to year, almost slyly, she had crept under his skin, pushing her way to a place reached only by a green eyed Princess, showing him a loyalty, an unconditioned love he felt he didn't deserve.

He had initially refused her, because he was afraid he would have gone far away from the road of redemption he had decided to cover. He will always love Lily but he couldn't avoid building a strong feeling for Emily, different from that youth love he carried for his whole life. A feeling born and grown up with the time, a feeling that made him wish not to die right away on this filthy floor, and maybe staying by her side, like he couldn't had done until now.

He found himself thinking that he could have even tolerate her awful cooking if he had survived, when his head started turning dizzily and he fainted again.

* * *

Emily could hear screams and rumbles coming from Hogwarts far away. While she was running at breakneck speed she looked behind and took a glance of two big figures fighting in the distance. Giants maybe? Well, in the time being they were the last of her worries. She burst into the pub, finding it pathetically empty. Anxiety and panic took over her being. She would never have arrived in time; the previous hope had let space to an agonizing resignation. There were still many shops on that road, and maybe Cecile had been wrong, maybe he wasn't even in Hogsmeade. She started crying, hopelessly, putting her head between her hands. "Severus," she thought again.

Suddenly she heard a melodious sound, which inexplicably warmed her heart. She didn't understand well where it was coming from, but she felt, without any particular reason, that she had to follow it. She came out from the tavern and started to follow the origin of the sound. High above in the sky, she saw a splendid bird with golden and red feathers singing a song of hope and flying towards the Shrieking Shack.

She entered the building from the unhinged door, walking along a narrow corridor full of dust and spider webs, until she reached the last room.

Severus was supine on the ground in a puddle of his own blood. Emily brought a hand to her mouth, pushing back a spasm of vomiting caused by the sight and the strong and ferruginous blood scent that filled the room. She casted a spell which deprived her from the smell, and went immediately at his side, ready to cure his wounds and bring him back home with her.

With relief she saw that, even if very slowly, he was still breathing. She poured some drops of the antidote for the poison on his wounds, which healed up immediately. Holding his head lightly raised, she made the antidote slide in his throat, because the poison was, by then, present in his body too. Then took the Blood Replenishing potion and repeated the operation.

"The heartbeat is too weak," she thought. The antidote needed to reach all the farthest districts, and the Blood Replenishing potion needed to arrive to all the hematopoietic organs in order to stimulate the production of blood. She put one hand over the other on his heart and pushed hard so that she produced the necessary pressure to pump the blood and, with it, the potions through his whole body.

"Please, please, Severus, don't give up now!" she begged him and kept on pushing rhythmically.

Slowly she could see the colour returning to his cheeks, the heartbeat and breathing becoming more regular. She mentally thanked Cecile and the Phoenix who had led her there. With a spell she cleaned his face, his clothes and the floor from the blood and broke the spell which deprived her from the smell. Severus needed rest, a side-along Apparation would have been a trauma for his still weak body. While she was pondering how to bring him to Prince Manor, a boy wearing glasses followed by her old teacher of

Transfiguration entered from a secret passage, staring at her with surprise.

* * *

**A/N: **Hi there! It's been a while, I know, I know. But! The last chapter has already been revised, so read and review this one, please! Just a few days and the other one will be updated =)

Thanks so much to **WhiteGray** for her hard work on this piece of messed English!


	11. Chapter 11

**Finally Together**

Emily had taken a seat near Severus' bed in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, patiently waiting for him to regain consciousness. If she had arrived just a little later, Severus wouldn't have made it. Every time she thought about it she couldn't refrain from tenderly caressing his face to make sure that he was really breathing next to her.

Her old Transfiguration teacher had been sincerely surprised to see her there, like all the other professors she had met while transporting Severus' unconscious body. After all she had disappeared and was proclaimed dead almost twenty years ago. When she told of how she had been saved by Severus and how he had offered her a place to live in for all those years, she saw Minerva McGonagall paling. It seemed she had tried to kill him, without knowing that Severus had been working under Dumbledore's orders all along.

She left Severu's bedside only to pick up Cecile, who had already drawn Severus fine and safe, and brought her to Hogwarts. The medical wing was very crowded. The battle took a heavy tool and many people were injured. She saw an older version of Remus Lupin, whom she remembered from the time she was still a student, as he was watching over his wife, a young woman with the hair of an indefinite mixture of colours. She had been hit by a dark curse, but the healers said she had good chances of recovery.

She was surprised to see beds occupied by young students, but then, their saviour was just a seventeen years boy. She shook her head bitterly. All those young people should have cared about studying and having fun, not fighting and dying. That war though, was theirs too, because it was their future they were fighting for. Luckily it was over; Voldemort had been defeated, this time forever.

Many persons stopped by to visit the still unconscious Severus. So Emily found out that he had left some of his memories to the young Potter who had proclaimed the Potion Master's true loyalty in front of everyone, Dark Lord included. She would have liked been there, to see his shocked snake-like face, for he had always believed Severus to be the most faithful servant of all.

It didn't pass a day without the young Potter passing to see if Severus had woken up.

"A brave man, isn't he?" Emily asked him, while the boy looked at the face of the man he had hated for years and had unfairly called a coward, without realizing he was protecting him all along. "The bravest man I've ever known", he answered and Emily smiled, just a little. Then the Boy who Lived Twice headed towards his friend Ron Weasley, who had just lost a brother in the battle.

During those days, she was interrogated by the Ministry officials, and Kinglsey Shackelbot took care personally of her deposition. He was an Auror who had been in the Order of the Phoenix, Emily vaguely remembered him from Severus's accounts. Kingsley told her clearly that, thanks to the Pensieve memories and the word of "The Saviour of the Magical World", Severus wouldn't have had any trouble avoiding Azkaban.

Severus regained consciousness almost ten days later, finding a crying but smiling Emily next to him. He had some vague reminiscences of when he was on the Shack floor..He remembered her scent, her voice shouting not to give up, her delicate hands holding his head, and a melodious sound so very much like a phoenix song.

He gave her a hint of one of his rare smiles, and she leaned forward to brush her lips against his.

"Potter?" he managed to whisper, wanting to know how that lucky boy, whose protection had become the purpose of his life, had got through.

"I'm here, Sir," he heard the voice of the boy readily say. Once he came into his view, Severus sighed internally in relief: he was alive, like Dumbledore had predicted.

"Voldemort had been defeated, Sir. Forever," he said resolutely.

Severus tried to move his neck, wrapped up in sterile bandages, but the pain was so strong that he gave up almost immediately. He had to check with his own eyes though. Struggling, he raised his forearm until he saw his candid skin, deprived from the Black Mark once branded on his flesh. He raised his whole arm with the fist closed as a sign of victory, finally free after all those years. In front of his bed, the portrait of an old and powerful wizard was smiling, his eyes shining behind the half-moon spectacles.

* * *

To get back to normal wouldn't be easy, not after all the pain, the horror, the period of darkness the Magical world had passed through. The recovery would be much slow than the last posthumous period after the First Great War.

Once Severus had the strength to get up and bear a Side-along Apparation, they went back to Prince Manor. He had become intolerant of the incessant visits and apologies by his colleagues, not to mention the questions by the Ministry officers. Even if his body hadn't totally recovered yet and was still weak, his angered temperament didn't spare anyone.

When they arrived at home, Emily prepared a bed downstairs in order to avoid him getting too tired by going up and downs the stairs in his condition. The same night she surprisingly found him in her room and since then, it became theirs. They didn't make love, they just hugged each other, finally enjoying the presence and the warmth of the other, until the arms of Morpheus embraced them.

Emily placed two little wicker sofas under the porch, enlightened by the warm spring sunrays. They sat there in front of the garden of Prince Manor, a refuge for a rescued girl, an orphan child and a lonely man who had finally found support and love in his life. At last Emily could enjoy his company without fearing to see him disappear the moment after she lost sight of him .

Some time was needed before Severus completely healed by the damages the poison caused to his body. Luckily they weren't so serious to limit his autonomy. For some months though he couldn't read without straining his eyes or express long judgements without his throat going up in flames. Emily was patiently by his side during the recovery in every way possible: reading a book for him, interpreting his silences, or caressing his hair and placing kisses on his thin lips with affection and constant presence.

Then when Severus was capable to keep up some hours of walking, they enjoyed a peaceful stroll in the near countryside with little Cecile trailing after them. Ever since she had talked for the first time she couldn't restrain herself anymore from wanting to communicate verbally every smallest discovery. She couldn't contain her curiosity about plants and animals they saw on the paths and when they left the small roads to the depth of the woods, she enjoyed playing the little explorer. Her exuberance could make Severus terribly uncomfortable with the result to involve him in long explanations, the only ones capable to satisfy her thirst for knowledge.

Emily found out how much she loved to share her life with him, a daily serenity they had managed to build together far from bunches of flowers and dispassionate declarations of love. She appreciated his little gestures though: sometimes she found a particular kind of flowers placed on the table in the hall, ready to be used for some potions, but left there without a convincing explanation; or when he read classic poetry to himself, but glanced at her with knowing eyes; or when she fell asleep on the couch only to find herself later in their bedroom, wrapped up in warm blankets. The passion with which he kissed her, looked after her, loved her every night counted more than a thousand words.

Two years later Severus returned to work at Hogwarts, categorically refusing the role of Headmaster. He choose to teach Potions, the big passion of his life, despite all the dunderheads he had to tolerate. Moreover he linked Prince Manor fireplace with the one in his office so he was able to go back and forth everyday. One of those evenings he had returned at a strangely late hour, when Cecile was already fallen asleep in her bed upstairs.

"Why are you so late? You know I had prepared dinner, right? Prepare yourself, by now it could have become poisonous!" she told him in a light tone. Her awful cooking was their favourite source of jokes.

"There was something I had to do. I went to the Gringott to take this," he told her briskly, putting down on the table a little box covered in blue velvet.

"What is it?" she asked curiously.

"To me, it clearly seems like a box," he answered ironically, but a small smile was peeping out on the corner of his mouth.

She frowned at him. She could certainly tell he had something on his mind.

"And..?"

"Boxes," he said slowly, "are made to contain something. Now, unless you are a seer like Cecile, you will never know what's inside if you don't open it. But maybe, with your-so–high-intelligence, you've already made it out …" he continued, still with a malicious smile.

Emily gave him a puzzled look before grabbing the case. The blue velvet box was very soft under her fingers. With a click she opened it, revealing a silvery ring inside. A green gem, probably a true emerald, took up the middle. It was inlaid with the shape of a stylized crown, the same symbol she saw above the iron bars of the gate: the emblem of the Prince dynasty. She took it between her trembling fingers, and turned her dumbfounded gaze to Severus.

"It has belonged to the women of this family for generations," he simply explained. Seeing that she was still at loss he added, "It's supposed to be worn on the finger, you know."

Then Emily returned to her senses and quickly put it on, a radiant smile lightening her face. Severus reached out for her, grabbed her chin between his fingers and whispered on her lips "It means I shall have to stand your awful cooking for quite awhile from now on…"

* * *

Six years later they were on the platform nine and three quarters to see off Cecile, who had just turned eleven that very same year. She could have simply used the Floo Powder, since their living room was linked with Severus' office, but Emily wanted her child to enjoy every moment of her school life without feeling different from anybody just because she lived in the same house as the fearful Potions Master.

Cecile hugged Emily tightly while the woman was struggling to hold back her tears.

"I'll be back for Christmas Holydays, and for the Easter ones, and I'll write you a lot of letters, mum. Please, don't cry." begged the little girl.

"She knows it perfectly well, Cecile," Severus told her. "Your mother is just very emotional." he added smirking.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop it." Emily let go the girl she considered like a daughter and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

"Don't expect any favouritism, young lady," Severus told her in a severe tone.

"Cecile!" "Cecile!"

Two girls were calling for her out loud, waving their hands. Then suddenly, seeing that she was with her father, the terrible Potions Master, they became immediately quiet.

"Go now," Severus ordered with a nod. But the corner of his mouth was bend over in a vague shadow of a smile.

Emily's eyes followed Cecile as she went to join her friends, boarded the Hogwart's Express and waved goodbye from the window. She watched her with a mix of feelings as the train, whistling and puffing, started to move on the tracks. She already missed her child but was glad to see her walking with her own legs towards her future.

Remaining alone Severus lightly bent down towards her ear, tickling her face with his breath, in order to whisper maliciously, "Tonight you're my prisoner."

Emily gave him a knowing smile, her cheeks burning despite all those years of being together.

"Really, my Prince, when ever had I been free?"

That evening, while they were making love once again, the seed of a new life was set up in her womb, ready to bloom nine months later.

In her four-poster bed in Ravenclaw girl's dormitory, Cecile dreamed about a little girl with deep blue eyes and long black hair, who held her hand. Together they started to run through the garden of Prince Manor, towards their waiting parents seated on the porch. They were home.


	12. Chapter 12

**My Children**

The moonlight of a night's Fall, passing through the half-closed windows, enlightened two sleeping figures on a soft double-bed, embracing tenderly each other. One of them was a man whose face, crossed obliquely by a faint scar, had sharp features far from being easy on the eye and a huge hooked nose. His expression was quiet although there was still a old trace of his bad habit of frowning, a wrinkle printed between his thick, dark eyebrows. He carried it from the times in which he was a double-agent, always attentive and full of worries.

Leaning on his shoulder, there was the head of a curly blonde haired woman. Her hair were falling randomly on the flat pale chest of his lover, and were gleaming under that soft light like gold strains in contrast with the ivory complexion of him. Her slow breathing showed a calm sleep, not filled by restless nightmare or dying persons she used to dream before the end of the war.

Now, though, with the man who had always loved by her side freed from the dark slavery imposed upon him since his youth and an orphan that made her feel the joys of being mother, the nightmares had vanished, driven away by that serenity they had built together as a family.

Still unaware, the forms of her body were already softening in order to welcome a new life in her womb, the fruit of their love bloomed slowly through the years, the highest expression of their union. During her sleep she hugged him more tightly, a faint smile dancing on her lips.

* * *

The Prince Manor fireplace burst into green flames for a moment and Severus, after a whole day spent at Hogwarts teaching Potions, came out brushing his ordinary black robes from the dusty silver-gray ashes.

He was puzzled Emily wasn't there as usual to welcome him with a quick kiss and the detailed report of her day. He first took a brief look around then went to search her upstairs. He found her up there, standing in front of the bedroom window which overlooked the red-brown colored gardens of Prince Manor, lost in her thoughts. Her long pearl-white silky nightgown which wrapped her body gracefully made her resemble more to an angel come down to the earth in order to save him from the jaws of death.

He stood still leaning to the doorframe in quiet contemplation of her image, wishing to imprint it in his memory. Emily slowly turned her head towards the door as if she was waiting for him and made a little gesture to made him come closer.

He closed the gap in between and Emily took his hand to place it on her womb, smiling. She was watching him closely, moved almost to tears as she was sure to expect a baby, theirs, in her body.

Certainly she didn't expect a reaction of that sort, a hand that bears away, an unreadable look, a backward step.

"Severus" she tried to call, not understanding what was happening. She was happy for being pregnant and she thought he would have been so, too. Was she wrong, perhaps?

"I cannot be father," she heard him answer bitterly "my hands are bloodstained, Emily. I'm able to dispense only death. What example could I ever give?"

"To Cecile you are like a father and she admires you," she answered, hurt by his cold attitude but understanding the roots of his reaction.

"I am not his real father, Emily," he answered dryly.

"So, you're telling me you don't love her like a daughter?" she asked, her voice trembling for the muffled sobs.

Early the same day she confirmed her long-suspected pregnancy and had looked forward for Severus' arrival to break out the happy news. Not only he was crushing all of her happiness, she had to listen to all those hard words he spoke against her Cecile whom she thought as her very first child even if they weren't tied by blood.

Cecile had never called Severus "dad", but Emily knew very well that she considered him like a father. And she had always thought that Severus's aloofness was to blame to his character not used to affectionate gestures, to his reserved nature and a whole life spent in loneliness. So maybe she was wrong after all…

"I've never said it, less I have thought it," he answered vehemently. "But Cecile is still a child and as soon as she'll grow, she'll understand who really is the person she felt admiration for and whose fault is her being a orphan in the first place." he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and putting the elbows on his knees.

The man she stayed with for years and with which now shared the life still carried on his shoulders the weight of those years passed at the service of a Dark Wizard and, even if the Dark Mark wasn't branded on his skin anymore, the wounds of his spirit keeping painfully on bleeding. Emily couldn't help falling more in love with him and like she had eased his corporeal pain in the past, she tried to take care of his inner wounds in the present. She took again his hands and, with a renewed resolution, pressed them on her belly in order to force him to acknowledge the small life that was growing inside her.

"You're not only able to dispense death, can't you see? You've given life, our child is the proof of it. Cecile loves you exactly like a father and if now she can grows, goes to school, learns, makes friends is because you have given her the chance to live on, taking her away from that dark cell."

Severus raised his head losing himself once more in the depths of those blue eyes and feeling his heart skipped a beat. She was so strong to bear all this crap and she was always able to find the right words to heal the deep cuts of his being. Severus sank his face in his womb embracing her, while she caressed kindly his long dark hair.

"You are not a God, you cannot save everyone."

"But I would like to do so," she heard his answer, muffled by the cloth of her nightgown.

* * *

The month after, Severus came home early asking a special authorization to the Headmaster. Emily had felt some strange pangs around her belly and even if she had reassured him she was fine, he couldn't set his mind at ease.

He stood motionless with his eyes wide-open before the figure of his lover lying unconscious on the floor, her petite hand still on the womb, warm blood pouring from her core staining the white marble of dark crimson.

He had to force himself to act, shaking out from the fear that had took control over his senses. He raised her in his arms with extreme delicacy and carried her to the Medical Wing of Hogwarts through the fireplace via Floo. Lupin, who had taken again the DADA post at Hogwarts, had to drag him forcefully outside the room to let Poppy taking care of Emily.

Remus made him seat in one of the chair put outside the Hospital Wing and tried to talk to him but the only answer he got was only a prolonged silence filled with tension and worry. Severus stared wild eyed at his hands stained of Emily's blood, while recalling in his mind again and again the moment he left her asleep in the bed upstairs and the moment he found her on the floor. Then he suddenly stood up and began to walk back and forth in the corridor, incapable to remain still and let himself linger about what could go wrong during the operation kept behind that closed sterile white door.

"Severus,"

As soon as he heard the healer voice he stepped closer grey-ashen like he was never before, his heart loudly pounding in his chest and his legs slightly shaking.

"Emily had a serious threat of abortion and had lost a big amount of blood, but now she's fine even if she's still very weak. She must rest for two weeks or so in order to avoid other risks of the sort. It would be advisable for her to stay here,"

"I want to see her." he ordered still pale but encouraged from hearing she was out of danger.

He reached the last bed of the Wing where Emily was laying still, her eyes hardly opened, her face bloodless. He sat slowly at the edge to not cause the mattress to jump eventually, caressing her face with the back of his hand. His facial features were twisted in a mask of pure sorrow.

"Have you seen? Nothing good can come from me," he said in pain. He heard her answering with a feeble, thin voice so much different from his usual golden-haired angel's ringing one.

"I don't want to hear this nonsense form you anymore. Your son is determined and stubborn like you yourself. He is struggling to come to this world," she murmured smiling while her lips dug two dimples on her pale cheeks.

"And I am no less, I thought you knew me," she went on "The only thing I'll miss in these days here will be the song of the skylark of our gardens I use to listen to in the morning…"

Severus caressed her face again sweetly until she fell asleep, completely exhausted.

The morning after she woke up listening to the skylark song rested on a perch placed by her bed.


	13. Chapter 13

**I want the future**

"Mum!"

Cecile, her black uniform billowing behind, scurried along the corridor bordered by the Medical Wing hospital beds towards the last one where Emily was lying, still pale but more healthy than the day before. She kept away from flying at her because early the same morning her father had recommended to not tire her mother out too much. Therefore, as soon as she arrived in front of the bed, she stood still, her arms hanging at her sides, her lips squeezed, waiting for some gesture or a simple word from her. The skylark on the perch was happily chirping.

"Is this how you greet your mother? Come here and give me a huge kiss," said Emily lovingly, spreading her arms towards her child. Cecile didn't need to be told twice and in a moment was seated on the edge of the bed, her arms around Emily's neck while kissing her all over the face.

"So sweetie, what's new in school? What have you done today?" she asked amiably, smoothing with pride her daughter's black robes decorated with a blue emblem of a bronze eagle.

Having the chance to speak about it in person instead of writing long letters, Cecile didn't restrain herself to tell her just about her day and she dashed into letting her know about everything that had happened since the very moment she stepped at Hogwarts, from the smallest detail that had caught her interest to every girl who slept in her dormitory. While she was excitedly talking, Emily realized how much she had missed her usual nonstop chatter.

Cecile was sent away two hours later because her mother had to take some healing Potions and one of them would have turned her senses numb.

Cecile, though, was even too happy for her mother being in the Medical Wing. Surely she didn't enjoy seeing her unwell, but she was glad she was right there at Hogwarts. It had been hard leaving Prince Manor and even more to learn to use a wand. Actually, she found out to not to be very good at Charms and she was a little downhearted, seeing nearly all her classmates succeeding at their first attempt. Not to mention her father's lessons that put her terribly under pressure. Not only he was more offish than usual, he didn't even talk to her and if he did, was only to give her strict assessments on her work or average grades. She was halfway on a flight of stairs when it decided to move to the opposite corridor and, snorting, she had to take the longer way to get to the loathed Charms class.

"I think Cecile has some problems," said Emily to him.

Severus stopped by at every break between a lesson and another. He had just left a class with Griffindor and Slytherin where someone, and this someone would have better to not been found, brew wrongly the "Elixir to induce Euphoria" and he had to deal with an entire class overcome by hysterical laughter.

"Concerning?" he enquired, sitting down on a chair beside the bed.

"Oh well, she didn't talk much about Charms. You knows, usually learning how to use the wand is the most exciting and fascinating moment of all. It's when you actually realize you're a witch,"

"Vitious had already told me she's having an hard time dealing with charms, but she wouldn't be the first nor the last student having some problem with a school matter,"

"And in your lessons? You aren't too much strict with her, are you?"

"I'm not treating her with golden gloves, if it's what you're asking me,"

"I'm not asking you this, but you are her father and…"

"Emily… I am not her father,"

"You know what I mean," she said, scowling.

Severus sighed loudly. He loved Cecile like a daughter but he was sure that not so far in the future she would have cast his failure to save her real mother too up to him with hatred. With each passing day, with Cecile meeting new friends, children of people who had fought the Second Great War, the prospect became evermore real.

These contrasting thoughts filled his heart and they couldn't be understood unless someone would have read his mind. But Cecile could only dream about the future, she wasn't a Legilimens at all, and the only clear message she had grasped was:

"_I am not her father."_

Leaning to the doorframe, tears rolling over her cheeks, she went away from the Medical Wing where she had headed at the end of the last lesson and where she had stopped to eavesdrop her parents speaking about her schools problem. She dashed towards her dormitory, his phrase loudly echoing in her head and her heart bleeding painfully.

Emily could finally leave her bed only a month later and officially in order to be near a healer just in case, unofficially for Severus' persistent worries, she settled down in his quarters in the Dungeons. To Emily returning to Hogwarts after all those years seemed a little weird but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. Indeed, seeing the board school from an adult's perspective was a completely new experience. With the red leather-bounded large volume of "History of Hogwarts" which Severus fetched after her plea in her hand, she walked around the castle to look for ancient pictures, hidden rooms, historical portraits. And moreover she felt good, so good she began to walk on Hogwarts grounds wrapped in a warm coat to protect herself from winter cold, so good to climb the long staircases to pay a visit to Cecile from time to time . The girls inside the dormitory watched her curiously and she understood why only after she had heard an hushed conversation, of which she managed to catch only few words and lots of laughs.

"What could she ever find in that horrible man? She's not a beauty, ok, but she could aspire to someone better. And Snape has that huge nose…"

"Perhaps the nose isn't his only huge feature…here you are the reason,"

Emily suppressed a laugh for their foul joke while climbing up another staircase. When she stepped inside the room she found Cecile in her four-posted bed with its drapes tightly closed. She frowned slightly when her daughter didn't start her usual chatter and gave her only yes/no answers, but then she thought to have made her feel uncomfortable in front of the others. Sometimes she forgot her daughter wasn't a child anymore, but a teenager who didn't want to be cuddled by her mom in front of her classmates, so she decided in general to wait for the meal to approach her.

The evening, when they were already lying on the bed together Emily kissed deeply her man, feeling the usual growing desire towards him. Her hands caressed his hairless chest under the fabric of his nightgown and went down, through his lean belly, to his lower half except that apparently he wasn't in the mood for it. He set aside her hands and gave her a kiss on her forehead, then he turned giving her his back in order to get some sleep.

The first time she thought that he was only tired, the second one that he had perhaps a hard day, the third one that probably he wasn't in the mood, but the fourth time she began to think something was definitely wrong.

"Did I make you sick, perhaps? It's because I am beginning to resemble a balloon, right?" she asked the fifth time in line he denied himself.

"Don't be silly," he answered harshly. "There is nothing more wonderful than a woman body changing to welcome a new life,"

"So you don't want me anymore? Is this the problem?" she kept asking.

Severus frowned at her but didn't answer. Even that night they didn't make love and Emily stayed awake for hours, feeling herself inadequate, undesirable and asking herself when everything would return to normality again.

_She was hand in hand with her parents, they were walking along the main road of the little city and both of them were smiling to her happily. Without warning everything shattered into pieces, there were screams, explosions, her father hand leaving hers, a flash of green light, and his body falling at the ground, his wide-opened eyes staring at her, empty…_

Cecile suddenly woke up, gasping. She needed some second to realize she was safe on her four-posted bed and that it had been only a dream. Not a dream, the memory of the very same morning in which her life, like it had always been till then, had ended. She tried to control her gasps to not wake up her roommates, putting a hand on her mouth and noticing that her cheeks were wet from crying. She hadn't ever dreamed something so real from the past. Since that moment she couldn't dream of the future events anymore.

Emily was completely naked before the gleaming fireplace, the soft light of the warm flames created games of lights and shadows on her body pregnant forms, on her bigger breasts for the upcoming maternity, on her melancholic face. She wore nothing but the ring engraved with the emblem of the Prince dynasty which Severus had given to her as a symbol of their union years ago.

When Severus entered the room, she gave him a look full of pleas.

"Cover yourself," she heard his deep baritone telling her.

"Do I really disgust you so much? Do you regret being with me? Do you regret us?"

"It is not like that," he raised his voice.

"And so what's it like?" she cried and went on more agitated "I would like to understand you, but I can't, I cannot enter in your head even if I would want to. So talk to me, please, because now I am hurt by all those silences I can't understand. You are here in front of me but I've never felt you so far. Why don't you want me anymore? Why?"

"I don't…" he began, but then he seemed to give it a second thought. He reached for her, for her body, feeling her wonderful smell penetrates his nostrils. "Don't think I don't desire you anymore, not even for a moment. These nights I struggled to not kiss and touch you like I would. But then I remember you lying on the floor bleeding, my hands stained of your own blood… you were dismissed from the Hospital Wing not so long ago," he made a long pause and concluded, "and I don't want, in any way, to be responsible of an eventual relapse."

"I am fine, Severus, truly. Poppy wouldn't have dismissed me otherwise. I am fine," she said, a note of conviction in her voice . She put his hands on her soft breasts.

"Make love to me tonight."

That night they loved each other with a sweeping passion and sexual desire, in a race of hoarse pants, broken gasp, sweated bodies and love prayers screamed in the intimacy of their bed.


	14. Chapter 14

**The Past That Haunts Me**

_A flash of green light, her father' body falling on the ground with shallow wide-opened eyes, her mother hugging her tightly while the explosion blast wave was sweeping them far away, a building collapsing, screams of trapped people, cries of help, pieces of glass flowing over their heads, black cloaked men with silvery masks waving wooden sticks and laughing aloud… laughter….laughter…._

Cecile woke up gasping as usual since the first night of few months ago when those terrible memories had come to torture her sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, pictures of her father's last moments of life flashed randomly inside her mind, showing his happy smile and his glassy eyes one after another. Refusing to stay in her bed, she went down to the Common Room where a wooden pendulum clock, placed in between the outnumbered bookcases covering the walls, told her it was hardly six in the morning. She left the room and wandered aimlessly around the empty corridors of Hogwarts until she found herself in front of the staircase which lead to the infamous Astronomy Tower, where the previous Headmaster had faced his death by Severus' very hand. She did waver for a few seconds, but then she climbed it up to reach the top of the school highest tower from which the entire landscape surrounding Hogwarts could be seen.

On the horizon the first rays of sunshine peeped out and, shining on the calm clear freshwater lake, lighted up the Hogwarts grounds slightly and the first line of oak trees which marked off the entrance to the Forbidden Forest. It was so quiet, so relaxing. She jolted when she felt a tip on her shoulder.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you" said the boy quickly, putting his hands ahead on the defensive.

He was tall, surely few years above her, with green eyes and chestnut hair. She could see the not-so-faint scar on his chin. He already wore his school uniform and Cecile took a look at its emblem, a badger on a golden background. She glanced at him suspiciously. She had never noticed him before and now they were completely alone over an out-of-the-way tower.

The boy gave her a warm, heartfelt smile and stretching his hand he introduced himself. "I'm Alan, nice to meet you."

She regarded him a little more, and then she smiled back and introduced herself too. She had woken up so soon and was in such a cheerless mood that she was glad he was there to take her mind off. She found out why her new friend kept coming up here. Apparently he lived in a mountain area and when he was little he used to walk around the woods surrounding his house with his father every morning, while the sun was slowly rising. "Since my father had gone I've came up here early to see the sunrise. It's my personal way to remember him," he said, telling her about the illness his father had to endure for a long time and that had taken his life away five years before. Cecile could emphasize with him very well as she was no more, no less than an orphan herself.

He turned out to be in his third year in Hufflepuff House and, more importantly, he apparently wasn't aware of her connection with Severus (Cecile didn't even notice she started to call his father by his first name) and she was happy to not have to answer questions about him.

They met up around six o'clock on the Astronomy Tower the morning after, the following day and the one ahead too until it became a daily routine. They talked about their every-day life, about their interests and hobbies, about school and lessons even if the topics "Potions" and "Snape" seemed somewhat bashed from their conversations. Cecile was always looking forward to their next encounter. During them, she could finally forget her nightmares and the moments of uncomfortable silence lingering between her and Severus. Emily had asked many times what was troubling her and Cecile had been smart enough to lead astray their conversation to other matters and misguide her to think her sad mood was due to scholastic problems.

Not that she didn't have problems with Charms, anyway. She put so much effort in it but in spite of all, it seemed that her wand simply ignored her orders.

It was terribly frustrating and after having discussed the matter with Alan, who was pretty good at it instead, they decided it was better to practice after classes. They agreed to meet around seven in the afternoon too, when the lessons in the Astronomy Tower hadn't begun yet. She realized how patient Alan was with her. He explained carefully each charm, spelling slowly the formulas and showing her the corrected movements with his wand. Sometimes he stood behind her, moving her own hands to make it more clear.

Cecile's attitude was very different from his calm, composed approach during the practice. She spoke non-stop, complaining about being a total failure in everything. She was mainly put off by the lack of results notwithstanding the repetitions and her hard work.

"You don't have to give up, I'm sure next time it will be better," Alan always said with his kind smile and his reassuring look. "Let's continue tomorrow, always here at seven," he said and waving his hand he scurried down to the dungeons for his last hour of Potions. Cecile, once alone, burst into crying.

"_I'm not her father."_

Those words hurt her more than her failures in Charms.

Emily and Severus were taking a slow walk along the lake shore, when Emily stopped abruptly touching her belly.

"Are you in pain? I'll carry you to Poppy immediately," he said worriedly.

Emily laughed, shaking her head. There was no reason to worry so much, the abortion threat was completely warded off and still there would be a whole month until the delivery. What made her stop in her tracks had been a kick of her child. She laughed again when she felt another one. Today he or she was surely restless, she thought with love.

"Here, find out for yourself how lively your child is," she said putting his great hand on her oversized abdomen, waiting for awhile when another kick came around. "He can't be quiet today," she said smiling before noticing her lover's face, a single tear rolling along his edgy features to break up on the angle of his mouth.

With a muffled laugh, Emily deposited a kiss where that tear had gone, tasting its salty flavor mixed up with his.

"We are going to become parents again, isn't it wonderful?" she said sweetly, resuming their walk, without knowing that Cecile from above the Astronomy Tower was watching them with a tightened heart, tears in her eyes and an overwhelming feeling called jealousy twisting her insides. Because she was not and she would never and ever be flesh of their flesh, blood of their blood.

"_I'm not her father."_

She wanted to think no more.

Alone in a gloomy cell, her mother held her hand tightly. The other people who had been captured like them, had been taken away hours before and had never came back. It was cold and Cecile hugged her mother, trying to warm herself up.

"Don't be afraid honey, my dreams are telling me everything would be fine," she told her reassuringly.

Claire Bennet, Cecile's biological mother, was a seer from which the child had inherited the gift. Generally the magical community finds Muggleborns by events of wandless magic that children are often used to perform without control. But Claire couldn't be located because all her magical power was focused on future predictions and nobody ever told her that she was a witch with a truly rare gift. When she was a child her parents had locked her up in a psychiatric hospital where she kept dreaming events that punctually took place. One of the hospital attendants, a boy some year older than her, liked very much that beautiful girl with silky blonde hair who didn't seem to fit at all among all those insane people. As the only young, sane people inside the hospital, they became close to each other, until they fell in love almost without noticing. John Klee had never asked why she was locked up in there. "I can see the future," he heard her answer. "Tomorrow you are planning to go fishing, don't go."

John was stunned the day after, when the television news announced the unexpected arrival of a violent hurricane which had caused the death of a few fishermen. The following day Claire ran away with John hidden beneath the undercarriage full of cleansing products, finally free and being able to live her own life. Years of confinement had taught her what talking about her powers meant and she decided to always keep silent about it.

Nevertheless, some years before Cecile birth she dreamed of a man with snake-like features and silver-masked people gathered around him. When Cecile started drawing, Claire realized her daughter had inherited the same gift. Then Claire began to dream her child near a curly blonde-haired woman and a man with long black hair. She didn't know what it meant until that day, when black-cloaked men with silver masks appeared from nowhere destroying everything.

"You will see honey, it will be all right. Someone will save us," she repeated.

Claire knew she would soon face her death as her dreams kept showing flashes of green light, the same one that had killed her husband. But thanks to her dreams she knew that at least her child will survive and will have another family. That though alone allowed her to keep going on.

"_Please kill me but spare my daughter, she has no faults, I beg you…"_

Cecile woke up abruptly again, rays of sunshine already peeking out from the windows of her dormitory. So she had overslept and missed the dawn. Would Alan still be up there? She dressed quickly and run madly towards the Astronomy Tower. She wanted to be with Alan, she needed to hear his calm voice and feel his reassuring presence. When she arrived to the top, he was there welcoming her with his usual warm smile. "I thought that you wouldn't come anymore," he said. Then she threw herself to him and began crying uncontrollably. She could stand no more dreaming about her real parents' last moments of life.

"_I'm not her father."_

She cried even more.

* * *

**A/N**: Hi there! The last chapter is almost ready, it will be up soon. Thank you very much to WhiteGray who betaread this too!


	15. Chapter 15

**Be a Father**

Severus was so nervous he smoked a whole pack of muggle cigarettes in just an hour, an old habit he had taken when he was still a teen, walking back and forth somewhere around thirty times along the small corridor outside the Hospital Wing inside which Emily was giving birth. Useless Remus poor attempts of comforting, Severus couldn't stand standing still or listening to. He just wanted Emily and his child safe and healthy, only then he would relax. When a cry of a newborn child filled up the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts, Severus sighed in relief. The little Eileen Snape had come to the world after long hours of painful labor.

Few hours later, Severus and Cecile were beside the bed where a tired but happy Emily was lying with a tiny bundle in her arms. She had few short black hair on her head and eyes of clear blue color could already be noticed under her half-closed eyelids.

Cecile watched as Emily hugged her child, as Severus took her in his arms, as their look beamed with joy and she couldn't help feel her chest aching in pain. Now that they had their own daughter, there wouldn't have been a place for her anymore. Probably they had taken her under their roof just for a sense of duty… maybe they had never even loved her. Besides she was not their real daughter.

"Cecile, don't you want to hold your little sister?" Emily asked sweetly.

Cecile retired stubbornly into her shell more, while those thoughts tormented her inner self. She had been so happy when had dreamed of her little sister. In reality she just wanted to be a part of the family, she just wanted to be loved like a daughter, only wanted to be regarded like their daughter…

"_I am not her father."_

"Cecile, your mother asked you a question." Severus told her with his usual authoritative tone.

Cecile' eyes locked with the ones of who she had thought for years as her father. The look of sorrow in her gaze was so intense that involuntarily Severus saw through her, inside her mind. He could sense his words echoing, her anguish, her aching desire to be regarded as their, as his daughter.

"Cecile…" he tried to say and stepped towards her, but the girl avoided his touch and flew away from the Medical Wing faster than she could. She rushed to the Great Hall, then kept on running along Hogwarts grounds taken by a blind, turbulent agony . She was so absent-minded while she was running that she found herself inside the Forbidden Forest almost without noticing. From above the Astronomy Tower a brown haired, green eyed boy worried seeing the little figure of the girl he would have spotted among hundred people crossing the boundary of the Forbidden Forest and disappear into it after the sunset.

He kept staring for awhile hoping to see her return and wondering if it would be better call for help. Then, when he saw his Potions Master racing from the main door and looking around frantically he scurried to the Great Hall to warn him. His Cecile was in danger and he know how poor her protective charms were.

He dashed along the corridors not caring at all to hit other students in the meanwhile, until he spotted the feared Potion Master. He had always known about the relationship between Professor Snape and Cecile, but from her way to avoid the matter he had guessed she didn't like talking about it. "Sir, I've seen Cecile crossing the border of the Forbidden Forest," he reported agitated, when he managed to catch him up.

Severus heart skipped a beat. He flied outside and without hesitations entered into the Forest, calling his daughter aloud.

* * *

Maybe she had already passed by that spot, but she couldn't be so sure. All the trees were alike and the heavy mist hovering all over the place seemed to swallow everything. Grim noises from somewhere were sending shivers along her spine. She had her wand on her pocket and tried to cast a Lumos charm, but as expected her wand didn't light anything. More and more frightened , she leaned on a tree trunk and tried to not get into a panic. She was alone, lost in the Forbidden Forest, nobody knew that she was there and nobody would have came in her rescue.

"_Why that birdie is different from the others?" asked little Cecile, pulling Severus' sleeve, pointing up at the finch' nest among the arms of the trees along the cobblestone path of Prince Manor._

"_Because that bird is, as a matter of fact, different." he answered while kept walking._

"_And why is it different?"_

"_Because it is a cuckoo in a finch's nest." he answered bothered, while the child kept following him like his own shadow, pestering him with her never-ending questions._

"_And why is cuckoo in the finch's nest?" she continued undismayed._

"_Because the cuckoo uses to deposit her own eggs in other birds' nest to make sure they grow well" he explained, sighing._

"_And new mum doesn't see that his isn't the same as the others? " she asked another time._

"_Well, let's say that she raises him like its own."_

"_So she love him like he's her own birdie?"_

_Severus finally ended his walk for Cecile to catch up. He wore a thoughtful look for a while, then answered firmly positive. _

"_How preeeetty!" cried happily Cecile, hopping around him. The Finch-mother and her cuckoo son left the nest and flew away in the clear sky, over the countryside around Prince Manor. Severus shacked his head resigned but he was smiling slightly. That child was so noisy. _

Why did she have to remember that episode now?

An abrupt noise of rustling as if something had touched the leaves made her suddenly turn. She tried to focus but she couldn't distinguish anything, it was pitch black all around. High above, she heard a snapping sound and raised her head to find herself face to face with the clacking chops of a gigantic spider, his watery eight eyes shining dangerously. She screamed aloud while run away hopelessly as fast as she could, entering more in the deeps of the forest.

All around she saw other spiders hung to silver thread, lowering down to catch her up. A silk thread wrapped around her legs and she crashed on the ground, trying to hold onto a root or a rock while her body was dragged towards the snapping chops of the spider who had seized her. Her nails scraped the earth when there wasn't anything anymore to hang on, but she didn't have the power to fight that giant beast. She tried frantically to cast a defensive charm with no result, and terrified she saw the spider chops close on her leg, feeling an unbearable pain while her bones were being broken. So it is the end, she thought at some point during the agony. She would have been torn into pieces and eaten bit by bit.

"Let go of my daughter, repulsive being" she heard screaming by Severus' deep voice while a flash of green light hit the animal body which fell back with his six legs turned up.

"Dad!" she cried happily. He was there, right there to save her. She stretched out her arms towards him and while he picked her up, her lifeless leg assumed an unnatural pose. The pain was agonizing, but Cecile at the same time had never been happier.

His father's arm was copiously bleeding and a she spotted a deep cut under his ripped robes. Angry snaps were followed by an Acromantula horde assaulting them. Severus cast maledictions everywhere, but they were outnumbered by the massive number of spiders. Cecile tightened her grip around his neck and was shaking like a leaf. He had to think a way to flee away, the sooner the better.

He closed shut his eyes, focusing.

"Avolo"

The following moment his body raised from the ground, hovering above the thick woods. He was flying with Cecile in his arms out from the Forbidden Forest towards the security of Hogwarts.

* * *

Now the entire family was reunited in the Medical Wing. Cecile had to deal with the painful growth of her broken leg bone, while Severus was forced to take a potions to counteract the dizziness effects of the Acromantula poison.

Emily couldn't leave Cecile alone, kissing and embracing her, telling her how sorry she was to have neglected her and how much she loved her, exactly like a daughter. Cecile held in her arms her little sister, who stared at her with clear blue eyes, pulling her long black hair with her tiny hands. She regretted to have previously felt such a mean feeling towards that wonderful creature. When Emily and the baby were sent back to rest by an angry Poppy, Severus approached the bed where Cecile was lying, scolding her about the gravity of her action and warning her to never step again in the Forbidden Forest.

"Dad I love you" was her simply answer when he ended his reproach. Severus, a little clumsy, put an hand on the head, caressing roughly her hair. He was a man of few words but his actions spoke more than them.

After he was gone, she endured the painful effects of the Schele-Growth without sleeping a single minute, but even if the physical suffering was strong, her heart was filled with joy.

"_Let go of my daughter,"_

She smiled from the bottom of her heart.

* * *

The day after Alan paid a visit bringing a bunch of pretty flowers and made her company until it was allowed. When her leg was healed, Cecile slipped into Emily's bed, who was holding little Eileen in her arms. Severus was going back and forth to the Medical Wing at his every little free moment to visit his family.

From that night on, Cecile finally started again to dream about the future.

She dreamed again to run wildly with her smaller sister in the fields of Prince Manor…

… About their family reunited around the table of the dining room, chatting loudly…

… Eileen, sorted in Slytherin, befriending a red haired, green eyed Griffindr girl…

… A reluctant Severus giving Alan the permission to bring her to Hogsmeade in the weekend…

… Alan kissing her under the weeping willow near the lakeshore…

… Herself, adult now, wearing a marvelous long wedding dress, hooked on his father's arm who was leading her to the altar where a man with green eyes and a not-so-faint scar on his chin was awaiting her…

… Severus and Emily, hand in the hand, walking along the pebbly path of Prince Manor with their granddaughters tagging along…

… The entire family reunited for Christmas, her parents seated on the sofa holding their last grandson…

…Alan and her standing beside the decorated Christmas tree of the hall of Prince Manor with their two daughters busied unwrapping gifts…

And more and more…

END

* * *

**A/N:** Well, this is the very end folks! I would like to thank **Whitegray **for her precious help and **Herbologist** too for having betareaded the first chapters!

Thanks to everyone who will read, leave a little review or just stop by!


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